Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Matthew, Mark, Luke and....

Held a tiny four-month old baby this morning. A boy baby, at that. His name is Landon and I not only held him, I changed his diaper, fed him his bottle and watched, cooing, as he fell asleep in my arms.

Oh, my.

I've held dozens of babies since giving birth to mine. Felt nothing, past the "so-cute-smells-so-good" feelings that accompany the relief that comes with handing them back to their parents. Done, I say, when asked if we'll have more children.

Done, I snort at my husband, the one who's never here and whose pining for a third is based upon his desire for a daughter. Frankly, I find that a bit odd and often make a point of reminding Mark of his misspent youth:

"Babe, remember high school?"
"Yeah." (Stupid, goofy grin)
"Remember YOU in high school?"
"Yeah." (Nostalgic, stupid leer)
"Now, imagine a boy like YOU dating your daughter."
"No effing way!"

That's what I thought, I say. Now, can you please pop by Shopper's on your way home? There's a sale on condoms. Buy 'em all.

This is how it's been for almost four years. Mark wistfully gazing at little girls and fawning all over his niece, remarking especially on her curly locks and long, pretty lashes - much like his own. For that same amount of time, I've been firmly shaking my head whenever the question of a third child is raised:

1. We have a two-bedroom house and I like it, so no more babies.
2. I want to sleep through the night again before I'm 40. If I have another baby, it'll never happen.
3. As much as I loved pregnancy, I am not in any shape or condition to live through another one.
4. Not one single part of me - physically or otherwise - longs for another baby. Not. one. bit.

Until today.

Today long-lashed, tow-headed, making snuffle-sounds-whilst-falling-asleep, finger-wound-around-mine baby boy Landon changed all of that and for the first time in my life, I understood the phrase, "my ovaries ache."

I could totally have another son - my Jonathan. My bookend. My final chapter. My youngest apostle.

Not that I'm going to act on it. The ovary-ache thing, I mean. Nope. Not gonna do it. Will, in fact, completely disregard that biological, deeply-primal, practically-impossible-to-ignore instinctive and basic human female drive to reproduce.

I am woman. Hear me IGNORE!

But first I need to stack the deck against my hormones and the sweet siren's song belonging to phantom boys called Johnny. In order to gird my treacherous loins, I have enlisted the help of  Reds.

Well, Luke.

Matthew is so eager to please and agreeable, his is an existence that virtually BEGS one to make more of him. His birth was the one I would have happily repeated mere hours after bringing him into the world. True story. Epi headache and all.

Luke's birth, however, was quick and so painful, I must still distract myself during sex, lest my brain somehow make the connection between what we're doing and a similar position that ended in screaming and hemorrhoids the size of oranges.

How will Luke ensure that I have no more children, you ask?

The answer is two-fold:
1. Luke is impossibly cute and sweet when he chooses to be, but he can scream the dead from their slumber when he's pissed. And he is presently sitting in time-out, screeching as loudly as he can because I wouldn't let him hit his brother in the eye with a hockey stick.

Read that sentence again.

LUKE is pissed at ME because I won't let him maim/permanently disfigure his brother. If that's not enough to keep me from bringing another McLennan child into the world...

2. A surprisingly cheerful, though random conversation with Luke this afternoon:

"Mummy, can I have a dog?'
"It would be nice to have a dog, wouldn't it? But I don't think so, Lukey."
"If I'm a good boy and stop breaking everything, can I have a dog?'
"No, Lukey. That's not how it works. You need to stop breaking stuff because it's not right."
"But I like it. It's fun and makes good sounds."
"Hmmm... yes, but..."
"So do dogs, Mummy. Dogs are fun and make good sounds."
"True, but they also poop a lot and people need to pick up their poop."
"Like you clean up my poop when it falls out of my pants?"
"Uh, sort of like that, yes."

Big pause while my ovaries stop their aching, having somehow recognized a  potentially life-altering moment-in-the-making:

"If I poo in the toilet, can I have a dog?"
"Only if we can name it John."

Future Blogging Ideas:

How to Blame Your Ovaries For Just About Anything
Finding the Perfect Pet for Your Family: A Helpful Guide
Manipulative Children and the Mothers Who Love Them

And you? Did you heed your Johnny's call or get a dog?


  1. Ignore your reasons and have a BABY!! sweet baby snuggle, sweet baby smell....

  2. Note to self: Block baby-pushing campers from blog until ovulation is complete. Baahhhhaaaa!

    Second note to self: Bring Luke to bed.

  3. Jump Mark. Make another baby. Or borrow Ella to totally cure you of ever having aching ovaries again.

  4. I feel like I should have arrived earlier today!! :o)

  5. Regardless...I STILL think a #3 should be in your future!! ;)

  6. Ha! Too! I won't tell you which way my vote wings, however let me say that when they asked me during my c-section if I was absolutely positive that I wanted my tubes tied, I told them "the only reason I had another kid was so when I had my c-section I could get my tubes tied as well. Now rip those suckers out and shred them because I don't need them anymore!!! And, if I do end up getting pregnant again post-op, I'm coming looking for you!!!" lol!

  7. It's so true difficult pregnancy's and devilish children are the cure to aching ovaries! I hear you loud and clear! lol

  8. Belly Mama - am dying with laughter as I can practically HEAR you saying those words in the OR! Bbbahhhaaaa!!

    Tracy, it wasn't my pregnancy with Luke that gives me pause - it's everything that's come AFTER! LOL!

  9. BABY! whoo hoo!Even the hint of maybe a baby is pretty exciting!! Although as a true friend i must warn you that you *will* understand what crazy really means when you have just one more- but on the upside you will have all sorts of great new material for your blog/book deal/writing career - you can call it " sleepless, leaking and happy"

  10. K, I'm going against the grain for the most part and saying NO! Lovely dream, but reality is something much more. Dogs are good, small ones.


  11. Carrie, you baby-pusher! I will, instead, live vicariously through YOU as you navigate life with three. Deal?

    Moe, you're a wise, wise woman. Dog. Good.

  12. No more babies. (and I say this in the nicest way, knowing that another baby would be good for you at this point for about 0.34 seconds) Dogs rock. I'll even help you pick it out.

  13. Ooooh, Luke. How I love thee, and your poopy-pants ways....

  14. Aaaaaaand, I was just *so* confused by "Belly Monster's Mama" posting on "Bellymonster's Blog".....

  15. Bellymonster's Mama is, in fact another blogger. She named her unborn daughter Bellymonster. Funny, eh?

    In any case, I adore her. AND her kids have red hair.

  16. Great post! I'm inspired by how clearly you hear and respond to your own feminine psyche.

    On another note, Dogs do bring a whole new level of love to a family circle, even with the picking up poop requirements. :)

  17. I think you should get a puppy. Let me explain, as a momma of 5.....

    We were a happy family of 5. We were talking about a baby, but I wanted a puppy. Hubby said puppy or baby. Got the puppy in April, got pregnant in July.

    Now we are a family of 6. Perfect. 2 boys, 2 girls. There is talk of another, but we are out of room, so we say no. We are done. Go and get a puppy in March. I get prergnant in June on some weird 50 day cycle.

    Go get a puppy..... ;)

  18. Funny post! "I am woman. Hear me ignore." Priceless. It's amazing how one little experience can change our thought course.

  19. Only you know when you are done. We had our third and I was done. The urge disappeared. I had my babies, I love babies but I do not want more. :) Great Post!

  20. Thanks, ladies! Great to have you here.

    In the days and weeks since I wrote this, I've stopped a few times, taking stock and think that my ovaries have given up.


    And since Luke announced that he will only pee in the toilet (not, you'll note, poop) things are getting much easier - and tidier - around here.

    There is a light at the end of the tunnel and I'm pretty sure that this bake shop is...closed.

  21. Stopping by from Clay's blog and my, my, Luke sounds like a delightful and devilish handful!

    I had a coworker that ended up with FOUR daughters trying for the son that never arrived. He's an object lesson for your Mark.

  22. Hey, Keenie Beenie! So happy you popped by. That Clay, he's so kind, letting me post my own stuff on his blog!

    Yes, Luke is a handful. It's a good thing he's cute because otherwise, he'd spend an awful lot of time being duct-taped to the wall! LOL!

  23. Oh my.

    After reading this I suddenly see why you enjoy my blog.

    The Tackler and Luke are peas in a pod re: breaking/destroying things or attacks upon their sibling.

    I think about the teething, lack of sleep, and never having a relaxing vacation until I'm 50 if the ovary aching starts up.

    Besides. I have friends. They'll have kids for me to soothe the ache, minus the sleepless nights.

  24. It's true. And I think every household has a Luke - the Lukes and Tacklers of the world are born to keep us humble and on our toes.

    It's why the ones who are especially naughty come with their own special brand of charm, I think!

    Great to see you here, Kelly!