I already have baby-fever.
I realize how ridiculous this is. I have a three-month-old at home and I’m still working on recouping from housing Clif for 9 months. I am absolutely fully enjoying Clif and his wee babe-ness, although not as wee a babe as he once was. But I regularly find myself pining to add another. And another. (And another?)
We are planning on having more little squishable kiddos, although not for a while yet. We’ve agreed to wait until Jared has a job offer on the table, which could be anywhere from a year to . . . ? And although I am looking forward to having more little ones, when I actually parse my feelings down a bit, I realize that they come more from the feeling of us being a family of four rather than already wishing for another go-round the pregnancy-mobile.
Having another baby has been an odd experience. We are not first time parents coming into this with first time parent fears and bumbling. And yet we don’t have to try to juggle multiple children. Deal with the new jealousy a baby could bring. Handle the kids sharing a room and fear for the additional wake-ups. Wrangle a toddler with one arm while trying to feed the baby with the other. We don’t get to do that. We don’t get to see Ryann as a big sister. We also don’t get to see Clif as a little brother. And I want the experience of raising siblings. Because that’s where we should be now.