When Tallulah reached six months of age, Felicity and I revisited the topic of having more children. She has always wanted Lu to have a sibling, and I, an only child, did not have strong feelings one way or the other. I think our friend Richie put it succinctly when he admitted he didn't know if he enjoyed being a parent or just enjoyed being his child's parent. We don't know if we like being parent or we like being Tallulah's parents.
There is a huge difference. We don't know what a second child would do to the family, what their dynamic would bring, or who they would be. Lu has been a graceful, quiet, easy baby. It seems almost inevitable a second would be more difficult. Are we strong enough to withstand more sleepless nights in service to another mouth's demands? Do we have the patience to be kind to each other through the difficulties of raising two children? What are the rewards of having more than one kid if you're not living on a farm and you need free labor? Rhetorical question.
There is the financial burden to consider. I am applying for graduate school, a three year commitment, one that will add another dimension of stress to our lives, not to mention my availability to our household. But we have already proven we can withstand anything. We are nothing if not creative survivors. And parents of a child who's looks would make the Gerber baby appear ghastly by comparison.
We shall see. I think we can do whatever we want. I adopt that posture in an attitude of defiant optimism, which has, at times landed me in trouble. But never bad trouble. Always a lovely pickle, which I devoured with relish.
Through the blinding light of eternal wonder, we don our collective shades of spiritual guidance, or, as the case may be, personal framework of vague principles, and witness the sweet beauty of what most call, but others do not, A Blog Of Note.
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