Birthay crayons

I THINK The Beast is going to be an only child.

Nothing in life is 100 per cent guaranteed, but I’m pretty sure we’ll be sticking at one and that we won’t be giving him any brothers or sisters.

Oh God, he’s going to hate me forever and put me in the Bad Home, isn’t he?

The one that smells perpetually of cabbage, with scary nurses who are scabby with the Xanax.

He’ll resent me all his life and I’ll turn into one of those stage Moms, with high heels and hard make-up, pushing him forward for every opportunity, bellowing about how ‘you’re all I have’.

Or I’ll try to be his friend, following him around the world backpacking, getting my Lorelai on, fast talking my way around Thailand like a fucking eejit.

He’ll end up having to nurse me in my final years as I succumb to liver failure from all the gin I’ll have to drink to blot out the regrets I’ll have for not having had any more kids.

And then he’ll leave my body to science and sell all my jewellery to a Cash 4 Gold place, all the while cackling maniacally.

Or something.

All joking aside though, here’s the thing – I love being my son’s Mama, I just don’t want to be anyone else’s Mama.

I haven’t embraced ‘Motherhood’. I think that’s it – I struggle with motherhood and the responsibility of it and the sheer weight of it, while at the same time revelling in mothering my son.

That’s odd, isn’t it? I’ve always known that I wanted to be a mother and now I am but I’m holding my hand up and saying: ‘This is great. But that’s enough now.’

All around me friends and family are on their second and third and fourth pregnancies and children. And truthfully I’m almost searingly jealous.

It’s not that I want what they have – it’s more that I wish I wanted what they have. I wish I had the room in my heart that they have, but I don’t.

I’m done.

I have a limit and I’ve reached it already with my beautiful blonde boy.

Maybe he’ll miss having siblings, and maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll love having us all to himself, and maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll push the boat out and put both of us in the Good Home. Who knows?

All I know is that families come in all shapes and sizes and the most important thing is love. So we’ll be a small family who are big on love.

And I think that’ll be enough.

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