Three's Company

So.  When you announce that you are expecting your third child, the reactions you get from people are a lot different from the ones that you got when you announced you were expecting your first.

Wait, let me back up - the WAY that you announce you are expecting your third is a lot different from the way you announce that you are expecting your first.

When I told my parents that I was pregnant with their first grandchild, I did it at the dining room table on Rosh Hashana and the news was met with hugs, tears, and toasts.  My husband was there and my father high-fived him, which for me was incredibly awkward.  Even though I was 29 and had been married for a year, there was now physical proof that his little girl was, in fact, getting laid.

Although I'm pretty sure he had figured that out about ten years earlier when my mother made him accompany me to the doctor to 'get to the bottom' of my recurring UTI's.

But that's a whole other blog entry.

Anyway, by the time I got around to telling my parents that I was expecting #3, things were a little different.  First of all, instead of telling them when I was eight weeks pregnant because I just couldn't wait any longer, I put it off until about 15 weeks because I was scared of their reaction.  You see, sometime after I peed on the stick and confirmed that we would soon become a party of five, my mom and I took the boys furniture shopping.  For the life of me I cannot remember why we thought this was a good idea but in the midst of my four-year-old and two-year-old jumping on - er - trying out every couch in Levin's, my mom looked at me and said "Thank G-d there's only two of them!"

I wondered if I would be able to conceal this pregnancy until #3 was in college.

Finally I had no choice, I had a doctor's appointment and I needed my mom to watch the boys.  I called her up.

"Mom, I need you to watch the kids so I can go for an ultrasound tomorrow."

"On what?"  Because there were so many possibilities, I guess.

"Um, my uterus?"

"Why???"  I could see my life flash before my mother's eyes.  She was sure I had cancer and she would be left raising my boys by herself. I'm not sure where my husband and father fit into this scenario but it was clear from the panic in her voice that they would not be in the picture after my untimely demise.

"Well, I'm pregnant." I said.  Her sigh of relief was audible.  She congratulated me.  She asked the necessary questions (when I was due, how I was feeling, if it was an accident) and then said "I sure hope it's a girl!"

I think anyone who has two (or more) of the same sex children can relate to this next part.

The first time you have a baby, no one really cares what it is.  I take that back - my mother in law did seem a bit disappointed with Kid #1 being a boy but after raising three boys herself I don't blame her.  Yet I have to say that her lament that  "I guess I still don't have anyone to buy ballet slippers for" might have missed the mark because I have a feeling that Kid #1 would probably love ballet slippers.

Again, another blog post entirely. 

And then when you have the second child and it's the same gender as the first, you get a lot of "Well at least he/she will have a buddy!" and "You can always try for a third!" Because that's what you want to look forward to when you're puking your guts out and facing 28  more weeks of pregnancy - a third pregnancy!!!

So by the time you get to the third, the pressure is really on.  From my mom's not so subtle hint that she'd really like a granddaughter to my mother-in-law's experience-laden "I hope you didn't do this because you wanted a girl", everyone had an opinion about WHY I was having a third and what it should be.

Apparently I don't give off the vibe of someone who has kids for the pure enjoyment of it.

So, I thought I'd lay it all out on the table - my reasons for wanting Baby #3.

The (Pink) Elephant in the Room
I wanted a girl.  There, I said it.  I mentioned in an earlier post that I am a girly-girl and that has not changed.  I love to shop and go out for lunch.  I have an attention span of more than thirty seconds.  I do not think farts and burps are "cool."  However, after two boys, I didn't want a girl so that I could gossip about boys and get pedicures with her.  That's what my girlfriends are for.  I wanted a girl so I could teach her all the great things I'd learned from my boys.  Like, how awesome Legos and train sets are and how lame princesses are.  And that fairies and unicorns are cute but construction sites exist in REAL LIFE.  I wanted to raise a daughter who wouldn't be scared of bugs because she had two big brothers to show her how to pick them up who would also show her the pure joy that comes from splashing in mud puddles.

Also I was tired of boy clothes and thought it would be pretty awesome to watch my husband raise a girl.

But I wasn't stupid.  I knew that just because I wanted a girl didn't mean I would actually have one.  In fact, many people were quick to tell me of their personal belief that once you have two of one sex you're like a million times more likely to have a third of the same sex.  I have no idea if that's true but I figured that at best I had a 50/50 chance of leaving the hospital with a pink bundle.  In which case, I STILL wanted a third because:

It's a Numbers Game 
I like the odds of having three sons.  Three sons means a better chance of one son going to medical school and becoming "my son, the doctor."  Or of one son fulfilling his father's hopes of having a child who did not inherit my athletic ability and is actually able to throw a ball, thereby letting the other two children off the hook to pursue their own passions, be it ballet (ahem, mother-in-law) or philosophy, which we will make sure is just a hobby and not an actual college major because the payback period on a liberal arts/fine arts degree is pretty much nonexistent.  Right, Dad?

Three sons also means a better chance that one will marry a girl you actually like and get along with.  One that will give you grandchildren who you will spoil for a couple of hours before you give them back all hyped up on sugar and she won't care because at least she got a few hours to herself to go to the gym or take a nap.  One that will not blame you for every annoying thing their husband does or insist that he 'cut the cord already' and move far, far away. One that will visit you in the nursing home even when her husband (who's butt you wiped way past the age when it was normal to do so) says "What's the point she doesn't know who we are anyway?"

Also, three sons means one might turn out to be gay and marry a 'nice Jewish boy'.  I think I'd love a gay son-in-law.  We could work out together. We could go shopping for clothes for their adopted Chinese daughter and visit the local farmer's market together.  I asked my gay friends (I have like three of them) if this kind of thinking is offensive and they said no.
 
Go Big or Go Home
Okay, so I'm a little bit of an overachiever.  My husband would disagree, but I'm not talking about overachiever in the sense of doing laundry or keeping the floor crumb-free here.  More like I am not that smart but I studied really hard and managed to graduate with honors even if I stopped taking math after eleventh grade because, trigonometry.

I know what you're wondering, does this mean I'm a shitty parent but I try really hard? Or that I'm bad at math and didn't realize that having another kid would mean I would have THREE KIDS?

Well, both.  But mostly the first one.   

See, a LOT of people want one kid.  It's biological. They want their own personal mini-me.  They want something to put teeny tiny socks on who will do all the things they didn't have the courage or skill to do before they got too old to do it.

Two kids?  Still pretty normal.  I mean, at some point you get bored playing tea party (or, in my case, Power Rangers) and decide that the best gift you could give your child is the gift of a sibling.  Two is BFF's for life, once they stop pulling down each others' pants in public because, brothers. Two is they'll entertain each other for hours (OK ten minutes before one bites the other) while you check Facebook.  Two is avoiding having that only child that has an adult vocabulary at three and doesn't know how to share.  Two is sensible.

But three?  Three means I am really into this mommy thing.  It means I might not look like I'm doing a good job because I'm always a little bit late and never turn in the permission slip on time and I might be overheard talking about how I can't wait till happy hour even though it's only ten in the morning but would I be having a third kid if I didn't love every f-ing second of it?  Nope.  Three says I haven't slept through the night in five years so why start now?  Three says I might have paid a sitter to watch my kids so I can sit in a coffee shop and blog about having three kids but leave me alone I have three kids.  Which brings me to number four...

My Get Out of Jail Free Card 
I watched other families with more than two kids and I realized that when you go anywhere with three kids you are given a very wide berth.

Ten minutes late for preschool?  Shrug and say "I have three kids, be happy he's wearing pants."

Kid #2 having a meltdown in Target while Kid #1 is running up and down the aisles  and Kid #3 is licking the cart?  "I have three kids, we don't go out in public often."  

Leave a birthday party with only two of the three kids you came with?  "I have three kids, you can't expect me to remember all of them!" 

Basically having a third kid allows me to look overwhelmed without people saying "Why is she so overwhelmed she only has two kids?" behind my back. 

Instead I suspect they say "Why did she have a third kid?"

They Sleep (sometimes) 
Sleeping children are the world's worst birth control.  This is because kids look freaking adorable when they are unconscious.  They might have spent the better part of their day crumbling up Play Doh into teeny tiny little pieces that got stuck in the carpet or screaming at you because you didn't get the right kind of yogurt, but something magical happens when they fall asleep at night.  Suddenly their eyelashes get longer, their cheeks get softer and their hair fans out on the pillow like miniature halos.  They might sigh or murmur in their sleep and all you will hear is "I'm growing up too fast, you must have another."

This is why nighttime is a horrible time to have to remember to take birth control.  Birth control should ALWAYS be taken in the middle of a three-year-old's temper tantrum.  If you don't have a three-year-old to throw a tantrum there should be an app on your phone that will simulate it for you.     

So. These were a few of the arguments I used to convince my husband that I wanted, no NEEDED another child.  They might not be the most rational reasons, or the most selfless reasons (although to be honest giving up another year of sleep and any muscle tone I had left in my abdominal wall seems pretty damn heroic to me). But I just knew I wasn't done reproducing.  Whether it would be a girl I could turn into a tomboy or a boy who would wear ballet slippers, this child would only add to the chaos and potentially cost me my sanity but at the end of the day I wanted, no NEEDED a third sleeping forehead on which to plant a good-night kiss.  Either my arguments were persuasive or it had been a little too long since he'd gotten laid (sorry, Dad, can't deny it any longer, your little girl is all grown up) but my husband caved pretty easily.  

And I'm SO happy he did.

Happy Birthday Zachary Galun Zelwin!  You add to the craziness of our life with your silly smile and infectious laugh.  Whether you end up being an athlete, a scholar or a ballet dancer, I hope you know how much you were wanted and that you make our family complete!