A woman I met, who will hopefully one day be my little friend's sister, said to me, if you're thinking about having another child then that means your home life with the child you just added has become normal. She said that to me last summer when I met her and we were talking kids and I pondered her words. She's right. I think we have hit our new normal and we're loving it. So the thoughts turn to baby number four.
Once upon a time I wanted six kids, which turned to twelve, which at one point turned to twenty, but only if we were super rich. Then I was back to twelve, lowered it to six, until I went over to Tracy's and Rob's and saw the laundry required for five and my number lowered to four, which technically doubles to eight when everyone is married so SCORE!
Layla was added to the mix and as clear as day I can still see my naked, crying one-year-old twins wanting to get dressed for bed and I thought this crying is going to drive me insane and I can't do this again. Three is the loveliest number that you ever did see.
But now after two years, our new norm is normal, and the thought of number four is back. Not in an active, Where in the world is Tatum or Jack sort of way (my gosh, Where in the World is, Carmen SanDiego? was the best show), but in a if God brings me to it, then my arms are open and I'm saying, "Jory, Rowan, Layla, one of you, get me a bottle for Tatum/Jack." I need to really start working on the baby name list again.
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