Carnival of Baby Humor is Here...

...and we have only one winner. Go ahead, check it out!

This is one of the funniest posts I've read in a while.

Crisis Averted!

So it wasn't a major crisis. Perhaps I just needed to talk to friends and figure it out for myself.

Yes, I still want another baby. And I plan on working as soon as they're both older.

Apparently, you can do with two kids what you can do with one.

I woke up today feeling silly for freaking out earlier. My mind is clear again. And it wants another baby!

Thank God for girlfriends!

Wishy Washy Wistfulness

Thankfully, yesterday's post didn't send my friends running for the hills. There were no frantic telephone calls telling me I've been disowned from my family. I am a little bummed, though. And irritated that this question even entered my psyche. And was entertained. Everything I have ever done in my life has been based on great faith that no wrong can happen. And now suddenly I'm concerned about toppling the apple cart.

Guess I'm getting old.

The Husband brought up the fact that two kids might actually be less work than one, since you could put them in a room and give them a few toys and they could entertain themselves. (Okay, okay, for a little while, at least. A very little while.)

And in five years, they go to school anyway. Then I have all day to pursue my career. Can you tell I'm thinking while writing this? I am. And I'm still no closer to an answer.

You know what the problem is? I don't know of any successful moms with two kids. I haven't heard of any moms who are glad to be where they are professionally when their kids are in school. Are there any? Because I'd love to know. I'd love to be part of that small minority. I just have to find it first.

Maybe Mommy Doesn't Want Another Baby?!?!

Okay, so I might just be insane.

But this thought it beginning to cross my mind: are two babies necessarily better than one?

Because I'm realizing or maybe just remembering other things I want to do with my life besides just raise kids. Like travel. Like run a business.

Hmmm...

Thoughts, anyone?

Thinking about this sucks and talking about it sucks even more. I brought it up to Hubby Dearest this evening and we reached no conclusion. Sure, having another baby would ensure that the kids could play together. But what about the rest? Babysitting? Mom's Day Out? Every Single Day?

Suddenly, I don't know. I guess you could say I have cold feet.

Of course, if I AM pregnant, that baby is going to have all the love in the world. But... what if I'm not?

I have no idea what to think.

Maybe I'll have clarity soon. (I hope!)

Happy Half Birthday, Bombie!

Dear Bombie,

You are six months old today. What a day to turn half a year - Valentine's Day! While you were still kicking around inside me last year, your Dad and I celebrated our last non-children Valentine's Day. We were both a little concerned about becoming parents, wondering who this new being was going to be and how she would change our lives.

And now, one year later, I think we were silly to worry. You have brought so much joy to our lives that I think Valentine's Day is the perfect half birthday for you. Because before you were born, we only experienced half the love we do now that we have you.

So don't grow up too fast. Because we want to hold on to these years as long as we possibly can. My baby. My little bombie.

Love,
Mommy.

Melodrama Mommy

Well, it happened tonight.

Bombie said her first word. It's with a great sigh that I have to report: Dr. Laura is right. In spite of being taught "Ma-ma" by Mom AND DAD, the child decides to say "Da-Da." Just like that. Just before dinner. For whoever will listen.

Da-da.

I have the fear of God going through me. Just like the time she smiled. For exactly the same reason. And the same thought I had at the time: "OMG. You're freaking really here!!!" You're a real person. Holy crap!

She's here, folks. My daughter. Forgive my brain that refuses to wrap around the idea. She's got an opinion.

Da-Da.

Yeah, you heard it. And I'll defend it in court.

Da-da!!!

Letter to Bombie's Teeth

Dear Teeth,

Are you EVER going to come in? My graceful angel-baby here has all but become a gremlin. Unfortunately, she's a gremlin I'm having to hold in my arms while she proceeds to let her fury flow noisily into my ears. That ringing I'm beginning to hear? Turns out there is no background music the city of Pollock Pines plays for our amusement. My husband talks of going deaf at work. Glad he's not going to be alone in that!

But really, come on, teeth! Painful as the term "teeth cutting in" is, I had no idea it was so bad. Not a minute ago, I heard the neighbor who constantly works on his car (yes, one of those!) use one of his power tools to send sparks up in the air. I wouldn't normally think twice about it. Except this time, I got up to check on the baby because I thought it was her screaming. So, she sounds like a power tool now! What else is on the agenda here?

She's eating my fingers and her own every chance she gets, screams bloody murder in the car AND won't let me put her down. Typing with one hand is getting pryetty hrard!!!

Just make your appearance already. Before I kill the dog for barking at strangers while she naps. Which is kind of sad, since that's his sole purpose for existing.

Sincerely,
Mommy.