Freedom!

One of the things I love about getting older, and perhaps having too much wine, is that I can be honest about certain things in life.  A friend's daughter, pregnant with her second child, asked me this evening how it was having #2.  Her main concern was that she wouldn't love the second as much as the first.  Thankfully, I was able to honestly say, "No, that wasn't even a concern of mine."  Unfortunately, what I added was that #2 kicked my butt and that my biggest mistake was having one in the process of potty training along with #2 being a newborn.  Pure stupidity on my part.  The fortunate part is that I was able to honestly tell this concerned young mother that it didn't make a bit of difference.  I loved my second child in the same crazy, hopeful way that I'd loved the first.  It didn't even require thought or extra effort.

The second thing I said, that may have been a mistake, is that I don't really like babies.  I know it's a shocker.  I've had four babies.  EVERYONE LOVES babies.  Except me.  I'd much rather see a four month old to 3 year  old.  I love the toddler stage.  The next shocker would be that I don't really love other people's children.  Gasp!  Four children of my own, how can I not LOVE every child  that I meet? Well, I just don't.  Other children must earn my love and appreciation.  My own children have the love on an automatic response.  They must, however, learn to behave in a way that engenders my cooperation.  Please, thank you and I love you are expected phrases in my home.  My children know I will do just about ANYTHING for them but they MUST ask appropriately.

I'm really not sure if it's age or experience.  Maybe it's a combination of the two.  Either way it works.