No More Kids, Thanks

My (ex) babysitter is adopting a child from South Korea.  Her and her husband are nearly unable to get pregnant.  They have one son that they had naturally, but it has been a no-go since then.  She is adament about people having more children if they are able, but does this almost to a fault.  In a recent post on her Facebook page (yes, I stalked my ex-babysitter.  Why shouldn't I? I liked to read her posts while she should have been watching my kids.  Bitch.) she told one of her friends that she 'thought this crazy lady probably had a litter of children, while all of the nice people in the world couldn't have any'.  Um, seriously? 

I am a fertile piece of baby-making soil.  My husband looks at my uterus and I'm pregnant.  But I don't want any more kids.  None.  Sure, I think about it, but come on!  Eventually, I want to send my kids off to college and go to Ireland or Italy or do some type of exercise program that does not involve them in any way, shape, or form.  Independence is something that I crave! 

This is the point where I tell you that I love my kids and wouldn't change anything about them being in the world.  True.  I wasn't necessarily trying to have my oldest when we brought him into this world (obviously we were having sex and I was taking my birth control pill religiously, but God wanted to punish bless me with him), so it was unexpected and life-altering and felt like I had no choice.  But I wouldn't take it back!  I couldn't!  Reading to that little boy every night and feeling him wrap his skinny little arms around my neck in 'a BIG hug' is the cherry on top of my life ice cream. 

It's just that....sometimes....that ice cream is crap with poop chips.  And vomit whipped cream. 

I understand that I don't feel the pain of not being able to have children.  If I was without that ability, I doubt I would be that heartbroken because of my personality.  I prefer to stay at work late (I don't because I am willingly obligated to my family).  Kids are messy and disorganized; I am not.  I'm more emotional  and pissy than my two-year old.  That in itself should be enough.

However, having the ability to produce children, but not wanting to does not make me the opposite of all the 'nice people' in the world.  Fuck you, bitchy babysitter that wants my ten-month old to 'entertain herself' while you update your stupid Facebook status.  You're not the nicest person in the world, either.

Strength, Motivation, Whatever

I am constantly finding that each situation that has been thrown my way is exhausting and makes me want to hit my head against the wall.  I love my kids, but they are a lot of work.  Especially at this age.  Xander only wants his mommy to hold him...and only him....that means, no Lilly.  And she's nine months old!  How can I not hold her.  It's how she moves and gets around.  Where is hubby during all of this?  Throwing up.  How am I - the one that got puked on four times - not trying to force my stomach up through my esophagus, when he's the one that handed me the child that sounded like he was going to puke?  Huh?  How did that work?  I am thankful that I'm not the one who is sick.  Because guess who would still be doing the childcare, cooking, and general everything?  Moi.  C'est la vie.  I married a man that loves to work hard...at work.  Not so much anywhere else.  And he's not a bad father by any measure!  I go to work super early and he wakes up with the kids (most mornings) to get them dressed and off to the sitter's.  I pick them up after work, cook dinner, clean up after dinner, bathe the kiddos, do the dishwasher, put the kids to bed, and then clean.  Occasionally, hubby helps and I love him again.  Every once in a blue moon a while, I get to knit another row of Lilly's slippers that I have been working on for six months.

How does one stay sane?  I feel like I am constantly grasping for energy, pulling for some piece of life that will get me through the next thirty minutes.  Dammit and the bills are due!  That's right, I am the family accountant. 

What does my husband do, you ask? Good question!  Let me tell thee.  When he comes home from work, after dinner, he sits down to eat his plate that I have prepared for him.  After which, I clean up.  He then changes from his work clothes into his pajamas and sits on the couch or the nice chair in front of the computer.  While either watching television or checking FB, he might hold Lil for a moment while I (attempt to) change Xander's diaper.  Xander then roams free while I attend to Lil. 

Yes, I have talked to my lazy husband.  Yes, he has admitted that he has a problem.  Somehow, though, he gets stuck on step two and does an epic fail and retrograde into retardedness.  La da di, I did something right for two days and now it's time to return to the days when I did nothing right.  And so, the endless cycle of love then hate then love happens. 

If it is not that obvious, I am in the hate you stage right now.  When he stops throwing up and I can sleep in the same bed, I might love him again. 

This is my dumb dumb dog, Bubba.  No, I did not name him.  Yes, he is licking the window.