Addition. Or not.

There are days in my life that leave me breathless, with a sore back and unwashed hair, looking back at my house that is neither organized nor clean, wondering how it is I stumbled down this road. It's in those times, shuffling up the stairs with a basket of laundry that I am almost positive made it through the washer, peeling a child or two off of my legs while ignoring the "CARRRIIIEED!!! CARRRIIIEEEEEEEED!!!" cries and the attempts to go all dead weight on me so I won't put them down... those times have my uterus clamping down on itself, willing my insides to just shut down, stop working, dry up. Two is enough.

But there are other days, when all I hear are giggles, everyone eats their entire lunch, and when Eli poops, nothing but butterflies fill his diaper. Rainbows fill my eyes, and I imagine things like my family of 10 skipping through a field of wild flowers while singing about Doe's and Ray's and Fa La La's, all wearing matching jumpsuits I made from my size 8 clothing that no longer fits me. Paul is carrying a basket full of sandwiches I cut into little hearts, and apple juice that's not watered down because I just felt THAT NICE. And while a little corner of my brain wonders how it is I've sunken so far down into the domestic role, the rest is wondering how I am going to ask Paul to work until he's 95 so we can get all of our kids through college.

I flip back and forth at the drop of a hat (well, more realistically, at the drop of a cup full of milk that I have repeatedly asked to be set down on the table to avoid doing EXACTLY THAT). I think that some people might say that since I am having any doubts at all, that maybe we should just be done and be thankful for what we have. After all, everything is so convenient for a family of four. Throw a third into the mix, and everything gets all crowded and awkward. But there are others, I know, that say because I am still left wondering if the next one is going to have bright blue eyes like Alex and Eli, and have gone so far as to scout out some names.... I don't know. Maybe we aren't done. As of right now, more would be nice.

If I could just avoid being pregnant for nine months, the decision would be so easy. I don't want to puke. I don't want heartburn. I am making good headway on my weight loss and I don't want that to not only come to a screeching halt, but actually reverse. I really REALLY don't want to puke. I enjoy regularly scheduled bowel movements. I enjoy being able to cut my toenails without being winded after.

And I enjoy not puking.

But... 10 kids singing harmony while eating little tiny sandwiches. Hard to pass up.