For a split second, the pregnancy bug bit me. I think part of me has always hated wasting an egg, while the other doesn’t want any of them fertilized. So, around the time I’m most fertile, I’ve always (not quite accurate to say always as I have been impregnated quite a few times) shunned sex.
So, yesterday, a few hours before the steady flow of my period, I want to be pregnant again … luckily the feeling went away rather quickly. Nothing like chasing two young boys around to snap back into reality. It’s almost now or never for me. I mean, seriously, I don’t want the middle child syndrome. For some reason, I’d feel more comfortable if they were closely spaced. I’d get to baby them all. Life doesn’t guarantee anything. And I don’t really think there’s a cheat to the sibling system. The more children you have, the thinner you have to spread yourself to make everyone feel that your 100 percent vested in them. Jack of all trades = Ace of none. I’ve said this before, but I have a choice in the matter. I put my children first, naturally. They are my world.
So, I make sure my children know that everything I do is for them. So, even after getting this new position, I seem to have snapped out of the honeymoon period. And I’ve fallen into some weird ho-humness that I passed off as can’t be top dog in every arena at least I’m a great mom. But that’s wrong. It’s so wrong. Is it my employer’s fault that I have children? So, he should then accept less energy from his employees with parental obligations? If I can’t fight with everything within me to give the best output in my work, then what is the point of working? I mean sure we have to eat well, have a roof, cover our bare bums, put away for college, and retire before age 100, but I can still strive to be the best in everything. Aiming high doesn’t guarantee success, I would much rather do, try, hit, play. Anything else is an automatic fail. Maybe that adage applies only to Jacks. I’m definitely a Jane.