On September 10th the day care gets its first boy. Up until this point it's been Ms. Domesticrazy's Academe for Vegetarian Ladies. (I'd use my first name but it's unusual, and I want to protect the children. The CHILDREN!) At that point I will begin making more money than I did at my corporate job. At that point the majority of our income won't come from the county. At that point I'll have a family splitting daycare until they get their son in, well, not quite at that point. When he's born. But wow. I'm doing OK at this. I'm getting better. I'm having more fun, and so are the kids. So I'm back in a good place, unlike July. The July from hell. And we're thinking about spawning again.
Now I read a few blogs, and I love the stories there. The blogs I like are written by parents, but they are my kind of parents. These people have tattoos, they swear like sailors, and they fuck up like the rest of us. There is one exception to this: Bad News Hughes. Funny fucker, a great writer, and someone who strikes a chord. But for the most part, I read about people who are as clueless as I am about our children, and love them all the more for it. People with a sense of humor. People that are crazy, addicted, loving, funny and have fucked up Jerry Springer bits in their lives; intelligent people. Not all the crazy and bad luck happens to White Trash. Life craps and smiles on us all equally. But all the other insight in the world tells you if you can 1) handle, 2) want and 3) are ready for another child. I've been batting the idea back and forth for a few months now, and I think I'm getting myself ready. I'm not quite there, but it's close.
I don't know why I'm not ready yet: I love my daughter, I love kids, I want another little one and I like the act of making babies. So what the fuck? I think it's our Doo. She's awesome. She's my favorite person other than her father (I have to call tie here) and I'm afraid to hurt her. I want her to have a sister or brother. But I don't want her to feel like the second fiddle and I don't want to, let's face it, fuck her up. She's been so loving and sweet to me lately. I don't want her to ever feel like she's not my Number One Kid. We've got a fairly good thing going now, and it's nice. And then there's the "want another kid" urge. It's a boring problem to anyone that's not me, and probably wouldn't be entertaining for anyone else. But hell, it's my little shop over here. And if the things I mull over don't come out I go on decorating sprees. So I continue:
We just got through the month of hell. I guess the big monster here is that i don't ever want to go through that again. She was miserable, we were miserable. She's just getting over it. Maybe I need to as well.