Occasionally the topic of having a second child comes up in Casa de Cheeky. We're not actively considering it--on the contrary, we're aggressively not considering it--but we know enough people who are that we periodically challenge our thinking on the topic.
Unlike all those card-carrying members of the Cult of Parenthood, who consider 5 AM feedings and bouts of high-pitched hysteria among the Greatest Gifts God Could Give To Us, we like to think we have a more realistic perspective on the subject. We absolutely positively love our daughter with a depth that's both intensely fulfilling and deliriously fun. But we also acknowledge that she can be a royal pain in the keister to take care of.
Now this makes us sound like a couple of whiners, which is a fairly accurate assessment. Cheeky is about the best-behaved child I've ever seen (based on my scientific observation of every screaming kid in grocery stores, churches, and restaurants) and yet we're still moaning about how we never get time for ourselves, the apartment is always a mess, she always wants to be held, blah blah blah blah. Yes, I know we're pathetic, and I feel like a first rate douche-bag every time one of those thoughts crosses my mind. But that doesn't keep me from thinking it.
Imagine what we'd be like with two kids.
There's plenty of arguments in favor of the second child. It would give her someone to play with. The longer we wait the more dangerous it is for Oodgie. We double our chances of someone visiting us at the nursing home on Easter. But the thought of diving back into the maelstrom of having a newborn, with the added bonus of someone who doesn't understand why you can't smear mac and cheese in his/her face, absolutely petrifies us both.
Then there's the thought of what a second child would be like. There's indisputable evidence that my seed is of the highest quality. But who knows if some bad oyster will infect the next batch. We love Cheeky, but we can't actually have another Cheeky...she's an utterly unique human being that can't be replicated. In fact, karmic balance dictates that since Cheeky is so perfect, our next child would be something out of the Book of Revelation. It's like hitting it big in Vegas...if you don't walk away from the table, you'll bust by the end of the night.
I maintain that, should we decide we need another child, our best bet is to adopt one that's already been ripened. Being politically incorrect, we've code-named this theoretical adoptee "Pong." Pong also has the benefit of not passing through my wife's birth canal, and, at least in my mind, would have absolutely no baggage whatsoever about growing up in someone else's home. Oh, and he/she would be a good cook, too. Why not? It's my imagination...
Maybe it's just that we're still so new at this that we can't imagine repeating the process. We've been sleeping through the night for months, and would HATE to give that up. Or maybe we're incredibly selfish. After all, there's that tiny little crevasse in our tattered psyches that still holds onto dreams of spontaneity and convenience, neither of which have been spotted in our neighborhood in months. The fact is that, unlike every single one of our friends, we don't feel the urge or need to have another child. For them, it's a foregone conclusion that they'll have another, while we stare mystified at the predetermination of it all. It actually makes us wonder if there's something a little "off" about us, like we're missing some gene that the rest of humanity has.
It's not that we aren't going to have a kid, it's just that we haven't decided yet. I'm completely fine with that. But it freaks me out that it's so easy (and apparently obvious) to everyone else. A bunch of you must have gone through this...what was it like for you?