When I was younger, I always wanted 4 children.
And they were going to be 4 boys.
I came from a family of 3 girls, and I was the middle child. Looking back I had (and possibly still do) have Middle Child Syndrome. 4 to me was the ideal number, even. They’d be in two pairs, they would all get along. I had it sorted out.
My first child came when I was barely 20. A boy. I was a single mum for 7 years before marrying my husband. He often says he got 2 for the price of 1 when he married me, which I find hilarious – there was nothing free about taking on a mum with a child.
Child #2 came 1 year and 3 months after our wedding, a beautiful, bouncing girl. A beautiful girl who never slept. Hubby was and still is a workaholic. So it was no wonder I was not impressed to discover child #3 was on its way when #2 was 5 months old.
8 months later came baby #3, another perfect,gorgeous girl. I had thought all along I could never get another sleeper as bad as #2.
She was worse. Much worse. I ended up having a stint in the funny farm when #3 was 4 months old, a term I use due to the fact it was the only thing I had found remotely amusing in the year prior.
Fast forward 3 years.
I wanted that 4th baby, and eventually fell pregnant. This time it was another boy – I was done. 2 pigeon pairs, 4 healthy children. Life was hectic but great.
And then we went to Fiji.
In Fiji, child #4 was barely 1 when the nanny observed him putting his head between his legs.
“He is looking for a sibling” she told me with a knowing glance. Yes I thought, he has 3, he’s always looking for one.
“No, you will have another baby”
And she was right. 9 months later our 5th child and 3rd daughter entered the crazy household.
5 kids. A life of chaos, and a house of mess.
Would I change it? Maybe once a week on days ending in AY….