He's always been a big guy (starting with a 9lb 12oz birth weight!), but his chubby cheeks and dimple smile always kept him looking like a baby. Now, not so much. He's running around in big boy pants as I write (risky, I know, as I should be running behind him with a bucket or towel of some sort). Pretty soon he'll be packing the car for college...
In the meantime, is it time for another? Baby, that is. I'm not in love with the idea of gaining 30 pounds (which before I actually was in love with), or being uncomfortable, or of 3 (ok, 18) months of sporadic sleep, but I am in love with the idea of kids.
So how do you know when to stop? I mean, at some point I will need to stop. Financial impracticality and spousal disagreement aside, I don't want 10 kids, but I could do 3...or 4?
I think it's all about the stage you're in. 5 years ago my uterus would do backflips at the site of a newborn. Now, although I love the site and smell and feel of an infant, I like the 2-4 ages much more. But I think that's because that's what I'm enjoying right now. In a few years, I'll look back at terrible two's as just that, and love the curiosity and maturity of the 6-8 year old phase. Right? Or will I forever want little kids?