There’s a philosophical question being batted around the internet. It’s “how many kids is a lot of kids?” and it kind of relates to this post about how little sleep can you get before you are officially dead. But back to that kids question.
Deciding how many kids to have is deeply personal. Should I have a little? A lot? A baker’s dozen? Just a matching pair? We wish no one cared, but everyone cares. Unless you have two, a boy and a girl. Then everyone will nod approvingly at you wherever you go in life. Unless your kids are hella bad- but that’s on you.
I guess what I’m trying to say is, however many kids you have is the most you have ever had. That’s that. It feels like a lot. Probably people with more kids feel like they have more kids, because they do. This doesn’t invalidate you has a person. You still feel like you have a lot of kids. Here, can I provide a helpful illustration?
First Child: What. Is. HAPPENING??!!!
Second Child: I knew this could happen.
Third Child: I was expecting this to happen.
Fourth+ child: I saw this coming in my previously authored Farmer’s Almanac of child rearing.
I’m very thankful to have an expert mom in my life, a dear friend to whom I hope to never catch up to in terms of number of children reared. But as she is always two steps ahead, her sage advice is more valuable than pearls. Like when baby toddling Owen started having constant diarrhea. I wonder. Is Owen dying? Have a virus? What is happening? I fret and stew. Dear sage friend says “stop letting him drink all that apple juice- that gives kids the runs like you wouldn’t believe.” Uhhhhhhh. Whoops.
But don’t listen to me- there’s a guy pushing a cart across the US that has more Facebook likes than I do. Plus, I typed this while eating pasta and dropped a bunch on my swollen uterus.