I spent the weekend celebrating the wedding of one of my oldest and dearest friends. After the reception, the bride and another friend started the conversations of having babies and I was asked if I’d planned to have any more kids. After seeing the look of complete horror on my face, the bride piped up and said, “Oh come on, Krissy! We can be pregnant at the same time!”
That’s the first time ever I’ve wanted to punch a bride in the face.
God knows, I love my kids, but I’m done. Not Brett-Favre-done. Done…..as in, eff that. I have my reasons and they are quite valid. Here are the top 5.
#5: My body. While I loved being pregnant, the post pregnancy weight and the toll that little sucker takes on the female body is something out of a Stephen King movie. And now that I’m almost 40 (shudder), there’s no way anything will find its way back to their original spot. It is a certainty that I would be carrying around my bladder in the pocket of my elastic waisted sweatpants.
#4: Poop. Look, I live in a house with 6 males ranging in age from 9 ½ to 42. I’ve seen, and heard, and smelled it all. However, they handle their own “situations”. (Well, mostly). I haven’t had to change a black tar diaper in a really long time. And, thankfully, it’s been almost 2 decades since I had to use a toothbrush to clean the crevices of a crib from where my toddler pooped sweet potatoes in the middle of the night and proceeded to paint his crib and walls with it. And the blow outs... oh my god…the blow outs. They always happen when you’re out shopping and they are in their last clean outfit and you’re down to your last wipe and there’s nowhere to change them but your 106 degree car on a hot August afternoon. How can such a small being create so much shit? I like living in a house where those types of things happen behind closed doors, with plenty of toilet paper, a fan, and Lysol for good measure. I’m none the wiser…unless I happen to be next in line to use that said bathroom. But still, I don’t have to wipe anyone else’s tail. And I no longer have to worry about getting into a Lifetime movie, comfy on my sofa only for a 3 year old to yell from the upstairs bathroom “I’m finished!!!”
#3: Gear. I traveled to NYC with the four boys a few Christmas’ ago. We were in a long security line behind a couple traveling with their baby. After a brutal wait, it was their turn to place their valuables on the conveyor belt and we were finally up next. 10 minutes later, they were STILL struggling to break down the stroller, detach the Bjorn, hand the carrier car seat off to the TWA agent, get their carry on, her purse, and the diaper bag on the belt, all the while convincing the other agent that the liquid in the bottles (that were obviously baby bottles for the baby they were carrying all this crap for) was milk for the baby, and not flammable, bomb making liquid. Although I think back to a Mexican food binge I went on just before nursing one of the boys. I’m pretty sure I could’ve made a bomb out of that, but I digress. My point being, I laughed out loud when they boarded the same plane as the boys and I and she looked at me asking “Are they all yours?” Me, proudly: “Yes”. New mom: “Oh my goodness, I don’t know how you travel with all of them”. I had to laugh at her. My 4 were ages 6 – 16, carried their own bags, fed themselves, AND wiped themselves. My life was CAKE in comparison to the nightmare she had with a 15lb munchkin that needed 94lbs of gear to go along with it. I do NOT miss that. I get annoyed when my kids ask me to hold their phone now. Hold it ya damn self. I’ve paid my dues.
#2: Crying. The baby’s…. and mine. With newborns, the immense stress it creates when they cry and you can’t quite figure out why is so frustrating. I fed him. I burped him. I bathed him. I changed him. I rocked him. Repeat. And he’s still crying. WHY?? Is it gas? Is he overtired? Is there something terribly wrong? I so appreciate now that my kids can be crystal clear with what ails them. The guessing game is emotionally tasking as a parent of a baby. Most of the time, you get it right. But the times you get it wrong leave you feeling like the worst parent ever. If they can’t tell me what is wrong with them now, then chances are they’re trying to get out of going to school and mama’s not buying it.
#1: Sleep. I love sleep. I love sleep so much I would marry it. There is nothing any better than crawling in my soft bed with my comfy pillow and down comforter and sleeping all night long. Sleep is my favorite. I need it. It needs me. We were made for each other and my babies kept us apart for too long!
Don’t get me wrong, the sacrifices we make as parents for our babies are beyond worth it. But now that my “baby” is almost 10, I have no desire to wind back the clock and do it all over again. I’ve most definitely paid my dues on all fronts, and now it’s time for me to enjoy their self-sufficient years. I will admit that I miss that sweet baby smell and loving on them while they sleep, but that’s why I have friends who will keep having babies for me to love on, but give back to them just before I head home to my soft comfy bed.
So no. No mo babies.