I’m working on a theory as to why so many people (at least in this country) stop with two kids and I don’t think it’s as simple as financial concerns. Vodie Baucham would suggest that it’s because we have an unwritten rule in the U.S. that two is enough [a boy for me; a girl for you; and praise the Lord, we're finally through] and that there’s only one condition where we consider having more than two — and that’s if both children are of the same gender.
But I think there’s more to it than that. I believe there’s also the overwhelming sense that you’re cheating one child or the other by not paying each one the same amount of attention that you werre able to give the first child when there was just the three of you. I’m constantly overwhelmed by the sense that Oliver’s getting the short end of the stick: he hates the sling and the mei tai (a type of chinese holder) and I worry that I don’t hold him enough. In my mommy’s opinion, he spends too much time in the bouncy chair and in the baby gym. I wonder if he’s lonely. Now, on the other hand, he gets breast-feeding snuggles and bath snuggles and lots of smiles from mom.
And eventually, he’ll enjoy the wonders of a sibling. But I worry; yup, I do.
So, I’d guess that for parents considering having more than two, they are actually, in a sense, facing an issue of near-term loss. They feel as if they get less time with those that they already love, and so little time with those that they soon will love. It’s almost like saying ‘good-bye’ before saying ‘hello’. And while ultimately, I think the whole thing turns around after three kids (yes, by that I mean ‘four’), the bitter-sweetness of those moments that I think that I might be missing…well, I could see how that could stop some one else… or even me.
[...] We’ll see; I still have to reconcile my other thoughts. [...]
I was lied to.
I was told that three is the same as two, and, like you, the wheels really come off at four.
Ha.
Evan’s first birthday cake was made with applesauce and no oil or sugar. My second child had an In N Out french fry as her first solid food. I kid you not. And the third? I don’t even KNOW what his first real food was.
Most likely because it was given to him by a sibling.
Three is INSANE. It is CRAZY. Someone is always crying, or fighting, or feeling left out. Or screeching in delight and inventing a game for the others. I can never keep up with the laundry, much less the shifting alliances between them.
The youngest is the pawn, the tool, the student/baby/victim/enemy in every game. And he accepts this as the price of admittance to what the “big” kids are doing.
He’s four, and always trying to convince me that he’s lost a tooth. Baby, you just GOT them all.
Three is outnumbered parents, and a thuggy gang of children who quickly perceive and exploit this dynamic. Yet, how sweet to watch the older two teach the youngest to read. Especially since I’m WELL tired of Richard Scarry’s Best ABC Book Ever.
My third is raised as much by his siblings as he is by his parents. Perhaps it is THAT terrifying thought that makes grown ups close up shop at two!
(And, btw, Kelly, your babies are so precious and cute and I wish you all joy in this intense nursing and toddler stage!)
Hey, In-N-Out fries are all-natural. I’d be proud of that.