So, we at LHOW have taken the crazy plunge to go from been evenly matched with two children, to being forever outnumbered with three. I have always wanted a big family, but three is the compromise The Mr agreed to. And (despite what some people think) having a third is most definitely a joint and wanted decision. Now that I am actually pregnant though, it is rather scary. The reality of life with the school run, pre-school run, and new-born is now seeming a bit bonkers.
And Wriggler and Fidget have developed this wonderful bond that now means I can let them play unsupervised for a whole 20 minutes (kidding – I’m watching through the crack in the door, while trying to eat my daily portion of mango…yup that is what I am craving!). I was worried I was ruining Wriggler’s life by having another baby, but it seems to have been the best thing ever…so fingers crossed a third one doesn’t upset the balance and gets included by their two brothers.
I was the oldest of three and sometimes I loved it, and a lot of the time I hated it, so I am hyper aware of how Wriggler needs to be looked after with this transition. The Mr is the youngest of three, so he is more concerned that the baby doesn’t get forgotten! I am also conscious of making sure that Fidget, my middle one, feels as secure and loved as he does now and embraces big-brotherhood with joy….and hopefully no biting.
So wish us luck with this adventure…a supply of mangoes, jalapeños, white chocolate and beer for The Mr are the only things that will get us through to D-Day.