Alright, Who Let My Uterus Blog?

(dually titled: Wifi in my Uteri - harhar)

In case you couldn't see me blushing for the last 48 hours, just know I've been beet red (well, virtually beet red - this is The Internets).

It's not that my last post wasn't completely and exactly 100% what I am thinking and feeling, it's just that I'm either A) going balls out (excuse the term) B) really hormonal or C) absolutely bonkers. It's equally as plausible that I am all of the above or a whacked out combination of some of those letters and any of the 23 letters that follow.

I'm also very confident that shortly post post, my mother freaked out and called my grandmother, who then proceeded in phone-a-friend fashion to alert my aunt and by tomorrow (Sunday), my ovaries and I will probably be on some church bulletin in Pleasant Grove, Alabama as well as the conversation topic at Tuesday's Pot Luck Bingo Night.

Actually, none of that's probably true - my mom is good at staying mum (see what I did there? I slay me).

But the truth of it all, is that there's this kid. And, I've never ever been a "kid person". 

Feel free to do one of two things: 1) Gasp and have a "Oh dear, bless her sweet heart" moment and wonder how ANYONE could not like these blessed angels that walk amongst us AND think to yourself "well, if she's not a kid-person, then why the chicken is she having BABIES and BLOGGING ABOUT it!" or 2) Nod in agreement because at some point in your life, you've had the misfortune pleasure of knowing me pre-crazy monster/child hybridsbaby and were FLOORED when you discovered (stalked?) that I settled down with a wonderful Hubster and 2 amazing wee-ones.

So, this kid. He's just so amazing. Always active, constantly learning, growing daily - and get this: he's MINE:

But the absolutely BONKERS part of this, is that he's not an infant or a baby, not even a toddler anymore. I keep finding him in certain situations in which he looks LIKE A PERSON. And he can do all these... big people things....

...like catching his first fish by himself...

And the next part that makes my entire reproductive system twinge is that I know what happens next! It doesn't STOP! THEY GET BIGGER!

Maybe it's the extra sleep that finally sent a memo from my uterus to my blog (apparently, I'm no longer needed, they've memorized my login information). The memo must have read:

Alert: All necessary reproductive organs. Eyes have observed eldest offspring appears less childlike and more school-ageish. Second offspring now sleeping through night and has rid himself of morning nap. Gear up for Operation: Make Amanda Fat Again, that is all. This message will self-destruct or become blog-worthy in the next 30 seconds....

Yeah, my insides talk just like that.

And they have a point! Or do they... could this be that Baby Clock most mid-twenty-somethings get? But see... I've already DONE this. Got the t-shirt and ultra-cool take home mug with hospital logo and EVERYTHING. I even got the honor of both a "normal" birth and one that ends in tears of delirium followed by 4 months of hell (woot.).

A lot of you said (wonderful) things like: you've got time, and it's ok, I feel your pain, and if you have another, it's fine to want a boy but you'd survive if you had a girl. Several of you went on with your bad selves and wished another baby on me, Donya... that FedEx package is my patented Fertile Juju Pregnancy Sauce, it also comes with a home pregnancy test, enjoy. 

Many of you pointed out that Someone Bigger Than Me (ok, I'm 4'10", almost ALL of you are bigger than me...) (I meant GOD) has His plan, and I should keep my so fresh and so clean clean (thanks swine flu) paws out of the Worry Department and more in the Raise The Kids You Have and See What Happens Department. As always, all of you made excellent points (and as always, I heart all of your faces...).

I can do that? Right? Let Go and Let God? But what about all that baby stuff? For now, let it sit and multiply. 

No Girls Allowed and Letting Go

Having 2 young boys, you get a fair share of "so, are you going to go for a girl?" to which I sharply reply "no, no, no... I wanted boys," and I mean it with every inch of my soul.

My grandmother had 2 sisters, my mom was 1 of 2 girls, and I was 1 of 2 girls as well. When I was pregnant with Chase, and we called my grandmother to tell her the sex, she replied "Oh, well, you'll just have to try again for our girl!"

Which, for the record, made my skin crawl.

And very, very few people "get" that I didn't want a girl. Nothing against them, obviously I am one, but I just don't do pink frufru and ponytails.

I was the little girl with matching everything (EVERYTHING) and whereas that worked for my mom and her personality, I am not wired that way - I don't believe I'd be able to play matchy-matchy this and that just to leave the house. The Ponytail Wars, the Ballet Recitals, the Sassy remarks....

I joke that the boys can tag along to the store in mismatched shorts and shirts, with dirt under their nails and suckers stuck in their hair, and people giggle because "boys will be boys", but if I were to have a little girl in the same conditions, DHR would be on my doorstep within hours.

Sadly... true.

After Chase's birth, it seems that both sides of the family dropped the "what about the third". Chase put us all through the wringer. Which, makes me uneasy... what happened to Chase was a freak accident. Odds are in the hundreds of millions... it's not that we have "bad genes" or that Chase was a "bad egg"... Chase is my calm, easy-going, plays-by-himself kid. He's actually less fuss than Conner (it could be the age though...). It breaks my heart a little to think we were "thrown out of the baby-making pool" because of what happened with Chase's birth. Does that make any sense?

I have this growing pile of clothes, baby clothes, in Chase's nursery. It started out as just one plastic tub, and now the pile stands NO LIE 4-feet high. On the bottom are newborn clothes, then 0-3 months, 3-6 months, 6-9 months... the top foot is sadly now 12 months and even some 18 month shirts that won't fit....

Technically, I am supposed to go through these clothes and stack them into "Giveaway", "Keep" and "Sell" piles... "keep" being for a quilt I want made of the more memorable boys' clothes - like the yellow duckie onesie both the boys wore, the shirt that always made Conner's eyes the most beautiful shade of blue, Chase's "accidental" take home outfit with ponies and cowboy tassles on the booties...

Problem: I just can't do it. I can NOT mentally and physically go through this MOUNTAIN of baby clothes. It means no more babies. No more first smiles, first crawls, first steps... you get it.

No. I don't want another baby, at least I don't think I want another baby. I make the joke with Michael that I might be up for it if he could guarantee me another boy, but we both laugh knowing that God would laugh at US and give us a girl. Because He knows I could handle it, and God's funny like that.

I need inspiration to let go of the baby things. Or I need a miracle to bonk me on the head and say "you could have one more baby". I'm beginning to think neither are going to happen.

(Inspired by this article, which explains even further why I just can not have a girl) (she also blogs over at the Mother Load)