Yesterday as Z threw his dinner on the floor with the requisite, “uh-oh” following I had a moment of clarity.  As I reminded him that “uh-oh” implies that you made mistake – throwing one’s food on the floor may be fun but it is not a mistake – I realized that I’m done.  I adore my son.  He is perfect.  And. I don’t want any more children.  

My sister claims that there is a “sibling conspiracy”.  At 15 months old your child is so freaking cute that it is impossible to avoid the desire of a second.  Z will be 15 months old in just a few weeks.  He says “please” and “thank-you” appropriately – I actually heard “thank you mama” a few days ago when I opened the freezer drawer for him.  He chews with his mouth closed – it took my mother 10 years to convince me to do that!  He is crazy, and limit testing, and adorable, and amazing.  I cannot imagine a better life.  And I don’t want a second child.  I want to take Z & KK to Belfast when my dear friend gets married in December.  I want the three of us to travel around the world together.  Some day I want to go camping and take Z’s cousin B with us. I am so excited about watching him grow up I cannot stand it.  I love being a parent to this little boy.  And. I don’t want to be pregnant again, or to nurse another infant, or to be mama to anyone else.  We would be good at it, great even.  But this is not a world where we will “oops” into #2, and I think that is the only way #2 would happen.

People around me keep telling me that my desire for # 2 will come.  In fact, they ask when we will start to try.  I think the answer may be never. This life.  This now.  This is the BEST.

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