Little Miss 8 patted my tummy this week and said this:
“Just look at my old home. There’s probably cobwebs in there by now. And I forgot to make the beds. And the grass needs mowing. You need to get somebody to live in there now!”
Oh dear Lord.
The thing is, I’m not adverse to the idea of having another. I love kids. In fact, I find babies ridiculously more-ish. Kinda like Tim-Tams. (They even make me fat.)
My indecision is not so much based on “if”, but on “when.”
In some ways I think if we really are wanting to go for number four then we should just do it now to get it done. i.e. I’m already at home with the Cass-meister anyway. Plus I don’t really want to be raising children across four decades. Trying to keep up on the popular culture references alone would kill me.
But then on the other hand, I don’t want to disrupt the career momentum, which, since my car crash, I’ve only just begun to get back.
Then again, as I’ve written about here before, that’s probably always gonna be an issue. After all, there ain’t no right time to have a baby.
The thing is, I feel like I’ve got two clocks ticking here: my biological one and my career one.
The biological one for obvious reasons, the career one because, as much as I hate it, the reality is that in entertainment, the opportunities do markedly shift once you’re a female above a certain age. I hate it, but it’s the way things are. Yet, what does that mean in terms of my family planning? Do I just hold off having another baby to focus on getting a career break that may not even happen? Or do I go for it in the trust that family is first and foremost and that if the career stuff happens, it happens and if it doesn’t, that’s okay too?
Well, apparently if you’re me, you do this.
Hmmm. I wonder if this means I’ve been blogging too long.