Sometimes I wish...

...we had another baby. Cyndi and I both come from families that had three children. She has two older sisters and I have two older brothers. When we got engaged, we always talked about having three kids. It was something we agreed on and something we both figured would happen. One child, 2:1, becomes two children, 1:1, and we observed how people with more than two acted. Out of whack is the best way for me to describe it. Out of sync, disrupted, overwhelmed. It became, for us, a matter of ratios. We didn't want to be outnumbered. We didn't want to be harried, upset, angry and bitter toward one another.

It's obvious, people do it all of the time. Three kids is nothing for some people. I have a friend who has five kids, all boys, two born in the same year (January and December), all under nine. Granted, he has a huge house, a full-time nanny, no time for silence, but I've never once heard him complain. I've never once heard regrets uttered out of his mouth. I think they'd consider having more if they could. I envy that in a way, but I also know our limitations.

I think at this point in our lives, me being 39 and Cyndi 35, we'd be able to handle another child better. Things got easier the second time with Lily than they were with Frederic. I'm not a big "hands on" kind of dad. Meaning, Cyndi breast fed both of the kids until they were one, she handles much, most, I mean all of the "domestic" stuff. She always has. Bathing the kids, doing everyone's laundry, stuff like that. It's the line we've drawn with one another. I have weaknesses and strengths and so does she. I handle the finances, a full-time job, coaching duties (when able), stuff like that. Oh, and Cyndi homeschools the kids too.

Maybe it's selfish to think that we should have had another child. We're way beyond being able to at this point--snip, snip X10 for me--but maybe we made the right choice. The kids seem happy. Everyone's healthy. One thing time has shown me" I should be happy for the little things.