Folic Tequila Badger runs Rampage!!
I’ve thought long and hard about sharing this.
I’ve tossed and turned.
I want to be a private person, I don’t want my life on the internet.
‘Bit late for that – you published a book you Daft Mare.’
He is right, and you all keep asking for more, so fuck it.
We are having another baby.
Well, I suppose that is a little presumptuous.
We are having sex with wild abandon in the hope we can have another baby.
That’s more accurate.
Well, when I say wild abandon, I obviously mean quietly, scheduled and with some serious doubts about whether we are doing the right thing.
It’s taken a while to get here, I have been back and forth so many times I feel like a badger on a bunjee rope. (Completely blind, a little scared and mostly on all fours #justsayin.)
I am mentally ill.
I have mental health issues.
Yeah yeah, you know all this.
I also have a five year old who now regularly calls me a loser (as in – ‘See ya Later loser!’ at the school gates) and reminds me he is growing away from the googly eyed staring at me from the shopping trolley eyes full of love, days with every moment that passes (‘Please stop shouting ‘I love you’ across the playground mummy!’ Ouch!)
Yeah yeah, you miss the baby stage, we have all been there.
Yesterday in a flourish of slut dropping, a large bottle of tequila and with cake all round my face, I turned a not very graceful 36.
I am now officially closer to 40 than I am officially comfortable with. (Just to be clear though, the bearded late bloomer working the register at the co-op (seriously poor bugger, he looks like a wrestler but sounds like Orvil) said I didn’t look a day over 27. #justsayin.)
Yeah yeah, you are worried you used all your eggs already!
‘Irish one! Stop with the negativity!’
‘I am just saying that online it states quite clearly that over the age of 36 you half your chances… And also you would now be considered a geriatric mother.’
I drunkenly glare at him.
Yeah yeah, I should be regularly putting folic acid in my system not 5 rounds of tequila. But it’s my birthday ok?
And I am still not sure what I want.
And also I ate a lot of lemon tonight, so there is some goodness where tequila is concerned! All is not lost YO!! (I am so down with the kids!) And as long as I don’t eat any salt for like, a week, I should be fine.
‘We need to try if we want another.’ He pulls the duvet away and jokingly rubs the bed beside him invitingly ‘Do we want another?’
How many times back and forth, back and forth. Back and bloody forth.
I am mentally ill…. But it would be managed this time around… but what if it wasn’t?
I am happy in my marriage now… we are awful to one another when we are tired…
I have a great job I love… which I could go back to… but I like my life now…
I like my life now.
I have a five year old who can dress himself and I sleep all night….
I can go out and drink tequila, go to the cinema with my boys, I have money!
I can hula hoop in our spare room.
We can go for meals, we may be going back to Disney…
I miss the smell, the sound, the cuddles, the love, the general babyness, the pushing of a pram, the feeling of mothering a baby, the enormous milk filled boobs that make me feel like Pamela Anderson. Hell I even miss the nappies, the tiny toes, the cuddles…I want Addy to have a Sibling, I loved having a brother, I miss snuggling with a newborn, the laugher of a 2 year old, I don’t wanna get to 40 and regret not trying… but what If i do get pregnant? I hated it last time, I was so… disconnected, lost, troubled… fat and miserable.
‘Will it be different this time Irish One?’
‘No idea. Probably. You know what to expect.’
‘But they are all different, what if the new baby is a nightmare?’
He looks at me with disgust.
‘The new baby would be our baby you idiot. How could you think something like that?
‘I am a nightmare… it would be half me.’
‘Good point.’ He pulls the duvet back over him. ‘So we aren’t trying then?’
‘We are trying!’ I stumble towards the bed trying to be sexy, but a wave of nausea overcomes me as the room spins, the double vision sets in and I see two annoyed Irish men glaring back at me ‘I think I am gonna vomit.’
‘I have never found you more attractive.’ he huffs as I stub my toe on the door in my haste to get to the bathroom, let our a string of faux whispered expletives as not to wake the 5 year old in the next room and head to the bathroom to drunkenly cry over the toilet.
I am too old for this shit.
This month I am throwing caution to the wind. I am going to have sex with wild abandon! (On the right days, quietly and with serious doubts I am doing the right thing.)
Wait though, am I doing the right thing?
I am like a Badger caught in headlights.
Whasssssuppppppp. (Random picture of Addy as a Baby, because interestingly I do not have a picture of me dressed up as a badger- I will sort this out asap.)