Part glam and part hot mess in sweatpants, I am like your mom friend next door if she's an endearingly neurotic spaz. Most days I write for my sanity's sake as my children scream and pull on my clothes. I answer to Stay-at-Home-Badass, Siren, Wife, Mama, Minivan Goddess and sometimes Pregnasaurus. Please join me on this wild ride.
S.O. effing S. I’m starting to freak and I need you.
This third little chickadee of mine hatches in six-ish
weeks and the doubts are creeping in, something fierce.
I am not ready. Not one bit.
I blame my feminist mother who taught me I could do
anything. I believed her. She raised me New Jersey-strong and at times overly
Like my Barbies when I was little, I still think I
can be an astronaut, veterinarian, or news reporter if only given the right
outfit. Except I’m 36 now.
And this baby is exactly what we adults signed up
My hubs and I could be classified as Over-Achiever Breeders*; we yearned for
a house full of happy chaos. Kids laughing, screaming, joking, coloring,
yelling at me for snacks. That’s my life. And most of the time it rocks.
I remember the blur though, the first year of Mom of
Two, when later watched flip video didn’t register in my foggy brain at all. “When
did that happen?” “She said that?” I asked my husband. He couldn’t remember either.
What we lacked in facts, we remembered in feelings.
But when you have two busy toddlers in tow, you aren’t
focused on the pregnant experience. In the last four months my little fam has
gone through a move, the fixing-up and sale of our house, a toddler’s
tonsillectomy, the end of my own mystery diagnosis episode and the beginning of
some obnoxious family drama. And that’s just the list that emerged from my
Now that the boxes have been unpacked (mostly) and I
have the space to think, I realize I’m about to bring a fifth member into the
tribe. Of course I launched straight into research, mostly at birthday parties
or stores, when I noticed a mom chasing three kids. “Is it true that the third
one is the one that sends you over the edge?”, “How long does it take to adjust
to the third baby? More than a year?”, “Am I brave or crazy? Be honest.” Most
of my interrogations have been met by well-meaning moms who smile and don’t say
much. I’m not sure what this means but it can’t be good.
A mom at swim this week with three older kiddos
looked at my bulging middle, then my toddlers, then gave me this sort of sad
smile-shrug. Was this code for “You are soooo screwed”?
Thankfully, the girls are more certain about their
gender-mystery sib. “I will love it, whatever it is” said almost five year old
Punky. Yesterday Peachy grabbed my belly and yelled at it. “COME. OUT. NOW!” They
seem more emotionally prepped than me.
I am worried about the stupid stuff: surviving intense
sleep deprivation; the gals acting out for attention; juggling three all summer
long; never socializing again with my lady friends whom I will need more than
So tell me mamas, before I have a panic attack, am I
going to make it? And what do I need to know, really?
Do you consider yourself an Over-Achiever Breeder
xoxox Love Lex
Breeders*- noun, people that desire and have busloads of
children and cannot always explain why they feel it’s their calling. Nothing
will stop them from achieving their goal.