Blue is the Colour. Being a Daddy is the game

So it's a boy.

We didn't want to know, we liked the idea of a surprise, but when offered with the chance to know during the scan we crumbled.  Like knowing you have to go home but are being offered one last drink in the pub, you know you'll be in trouble later, but it was on offer and you can't turn it down can you?

It could have been totally different, but for one little thing...

Number 1 has been incredibly excited about the whole thing she's told just about everyone at her school, so when my wife asked if she'd like to go to see the baby in Mummy's tummy at the hospital she jumped at the chance.

We turned up at the scan and were politely asked if we wanted to know towards the end the sex of the baby, my wife and i looked at each other and smiled and said "no, thanks".  "YES, YES... YES we do" came the shout from the up until then quiet as a mouse #1... it was the equivalent of the elbow nudge and "come on one more quick one" every man knows so well from being with friends in the pub.

A twinkle in my wife's eye said she was ready to accept that illicit drink.

"Shall we?"

and the die was cast...

"it's a Boy"

"Owwwwww...." grumped #1 wanting yet another sister

A few minutes later we're sitting in the waiting room waiting for Mummy to go to the toilet.

"So Daddy. Oscar is a nice name isn't it?"

I think I've created a monster.

Russian Roulette

We’re pregnant. Another bun is in the metaphorical oven.  My wife has wandered up duff street. She’s with Child. Whichever way I write this I’m still struggling to get my head around it. Normally this would be a time for excitement, to wish us well, to take joy in the fact of new life. So why do I feel like I've been kicked square in the ‘ gentleman's area’?  Why does this hat trick feel like I've scored at wrong end, two glorious wonder goals before haplessly slicing the ball past my own goalkeeper and into my net?

I expect zero sympathy from you dear reader, it was after all I (well ‘we’) who had all the pleasure of that night, not you. It was me that played Russian roulette with contraception and shot myself point blank in the head.

We’d always discussed a third child, I’m from a big family and we’d always liked the idea of a similar sized family to make things like Christmas and family gatherings that bit more vibrant and noisy. But we only moved into a larger house a couple of years ago, and I still haven’t even finished decorating a single room yet. I’d just be coming round to the idea of just having the two girls, of a faint hope that foreign holidays might be back in a few years’ time. Of sleep that lasts almost 6 hours at a time.  Dumping the kids of at the grand parents and whizzing off on a naughty weekend away with the wife.  I’d even toyed with the idea of taking up golf again or buying family season tickets at the Rugby or football.  All now firmly moved into the no bloody chance file.

So why am I struggling with the thought of having another? Am I selfish?  No probably not. it’s not really my life I worry about. The sex life apart, I don’t need anything of the above including the sleep, I’m one of those people that is eternally content with my lot.  That’s not to say I’m not ambitious I would love to have more money to give me more options in life, but I don’t strive to own more, bigger,  greater things.  I like things as they are. I’m happy.  

But the pressure is firmly on my shoulders. The girls are delighted about the thought of sharing a room, but how long will it last?  Money is tight now, how will it be when there is another little person?  Can we even afford for my wife not to work?  Would we be even better off if she still did? to We need to feed another mouth, to purchase a car to fit three car seats in, to eventually purchase a bigger house so all the kids have their own room while still making sure that it’s in an area that is best for their upbringing… And what the bloody hell will I call the blog if it turns out that number 3 is a boy?

I know I won’t resent number three for the sacrifices the whole family have to make? But I’d love to give the family the best chance in their lives and with that comes sacrifice from me.  Much of this pressure I feel is created by myself. So I’ve decided there is no time sitting around moping about the situation I find myself in, I’m lucky. This is a positive thing, I just need to convince myself of that.

 I’m off to find a new job… just as soon as I’ve booked in for a vasectomy.