Had you going there, didn’t I?
It was only a craving. It was just a sandwich. Couldn’t happen. I asked for double knots and I got them. Because if I’d waited for The Husband to take care of business, I’d have been knocked up again. Men are so touchy about that sort of thing.
But that recent craving, which was very real, got me thinking about being pregnant what seems like so long ago. About how endless those days of two in diapers seemed at the time. About how fast they really do fly by if you’re not paying attention. And it made me kind of wistful.
Now I face the reality of mid-life signaling that phase of life is really over. And life moves on. As it should. Now it’s closer to the empty nest than the full house.
I often think if I’d started this motherhood gig a little earlier in life, I’d probably have a brood of five. Maybe it’s being an only child that made me want more than one. Or maybe it was just one too many margaritas.
Perhaps it’s the hormones of perimenopause that make me oh-so sentimental about motherhood right now (Am I the only one who tears up during Hallmark commercials?). There are times, like now, that I wonder what it would have been like to have a little pink wrapped bundle in my life.
But then I count my blessings when the boys start bickering over stupid things. And on those days, an empty nest doesn’t sound half bad.