It is quite likely that some time in the not-so-far-off future, I will come to rue the moments I wished that FBC would hurry and grow up already. I don't think I've indulged much in motherhood sentimentality, but I do know that he will only be small and cute and defenceless all at once at this point in his life, and I have no idea when the day will come where we will wake up in the morning and find that he has transformed into a gangly, awkward stranger. Treasure each day with your child! There is nothing more worthwhile! Enjoy all the overwhelming love! Did you ever, EVER think you could ever love anybody SO much?
Guilt-inducing platitudes abound on social media, and when I'm not dismissing them as absolute tosh, I am holding back tears at my desk and telling myself not to succumb to this crap*.
*I am aware that not everyone who may read this thinks it is crap. No offence intended. I have weird coping mechanisms.
For the record - even though FBC is almost two and we are expecting our Second Born Child ("SBC") pretty soon, I still don't feel that having children is worth it. Somewhere in my mind, of course, my rational self is aware and believes that it is (after all, we are having another), but when I was in the throes of nausea and a terrible cold* during my second first trimester, I looked at FBC sleeping peacefully next to me, and wondered what on earth I had gotten, and was getting myself into.
*I thought I would never, EVER, be able to eat again. Have YOU ever felt like you would never, EVER be able to eat again?
***
Before we had FBC, I was quite certain that I only wanted to try for a second one after he could communicate properly with us, i.e. tell us what he wanted or was feeling in words. It's not that he can't do so now, but he's nowhere near the fantastic ideal I had in mind when we were "family planning".
That being said, it dawned on me a few days ago that it's probably just as well we decided to try for another one sooner rather than later, because I would in all likelihood have lost my nerve to have more than one child if we'd waited longer.
Some days, I sit in the car after FBC gets on the school bus (yowling as he's strapped in, but the overly cheerful (for 8.30am) teacher who accompanies the children to school informs me that he usually stops once I'm out of sight), and feel horribly alone and a bit like I'm drowning (yes, Christians are humans too). I then spend part of those days looking at pictures of FBC on my phone and missing him, but when six o'clock comes and I have to leave the office so I can get to childcare before 7pm and avoid a fine, a sense of doom descends slowly but surely on my heart as I navigate through the little (thankfully) road angst I have to face at my area. I'm convinced FBC has a special whine reserved especially for me*, that he starts on the moment I strap him into his car seat. It's absolutely lovely seeing him run towards me on his short little legs in his too long school bermudas, arms outstretched, one of his best smiles breaking out on his chubby face as he gets closer, repeating "Mama mama mama"; I feel proud at how nicely he says bye to all the teachers and sits down without being told to have his sandals put on. But once we're alone in the car, all hell seems to break loose, and FBC doesn't let up until we're home and I've given him a bottle of milk.
*It is not usually turned on when there is someone else in the car, for example, Jon or my mother.
Moral of that story? Always make sure you have enough warm water and formula on hand to shake up a bottle of milk. Even if your house is, at most, a 15 minute drive from childcare. Evidently, toddlers are unaware of the concepts of patience and reasonableness.
***
Now is when I tell you that I have found, after seven months or so as a Full Time Working Mother ("FTWM"), that having eschewed live-in help, I get through every day fully believing in the intrinsic worth of, and find great joy in serving my family even after a long and mentally draining day at work (so you can judge me for being indirectly judgmental of FTWMs who have live-in help).
Sarcasm aside, I think it comes down to my stubbornness and refusal to have to give up some of our privacy. And I also have reasons other than the usual How Can I Trust Someone Else With My Child?, What If Having a Helper Just Creates More Problems? and What If My Husband or Sons Molest My Helper? which you can ask me about in real life. We'll see how things go after SBC, I guess - though I am really not keen on the idea.
***
I have discovered that making a pot of chicken stock during the weekend can provide the base for two or three healthy and tasty dinners during the week. I usually put about six to eight Sakura chicken thighs and 6.5 to 7 cups of water in my 3.5l thermal pot. After the chicken thighs have cooked for 30-45 minutes, I remove the meat from the thighs, return the bones to the pot, top up with more water, and leave it in my thermal pot overnight (bringing the stock to a boil from time to time, if I have the time to do so (I usually don't)). And there you have the base for chicken soup, chicken pho, chicken porridge, [insert vegetable of choice] soup, etc. for the week.
