Posted by: Jamie Stamm | October 18, 2008

Men (or at least my husband) confuse the hell out of me

I come from a three-child family, and I loved growing up with both a brother and a sister (my sister did, as well, although our brother would probably tell you that life with two sisters was – and continues to be – absolute hell). My husband, on the other hand, was the eldest of two children – one boy and one girl – and thinks that was the ideal arrangement.

So when we started talking about beginning our own family, I pushed for three kids, while Jerry insisted that two was his limit. Always one to turn to logic, he argued that our job as human beings is only to replace ourselves, not contribute to overpopulation here on earth.

He became even more resolute in his two-child policy after our beautiful daughter was joined by a bouncing baby boy.

“That’s perfect,” Jerry said the moment a penis appeared in one of Anthony’s ultrasound photos. “One girl. One boy. We’re finished.”

I was a little sad in the final months of my pregnancy with Anthony, knowing that I would never again experience the feelings of life growing inside of me – from the simple flutters to the sharp rib kicks to the tiny hiccups that plagued an in-utero Cera. I was blessed with two very easy pregnancies and reveled in every moment of my children’s development.

But as I struggled to cope with an infant and a toddler and a full-time job, I started to suspect that my husband might be on to something. And now that I have a 2-year-old and a 5-year-old, who pull me in two different directions every second of every day, I think he was absolutely right. Although I love being a mom, I don’t need – or want- any more kids. In fact, I’ve finally reached the point where I can hold a friend’s newborn and not catch the baby bug. There was a time when I wondered if that would ever happen.

So I’ve started unloading our baby gear. I sold the high chair, stroller and pack-and-play at a yard sale, and I’ve put Anthony’s crib and changing table on craigslist. And if someone in my immediate family doesn’t soon show at least an iota of interest in having children, I intend to start bailing the boxes of baby clothing that are overtaking my attic.

Or at least I intended to.

Because last night, this happened.

Around 3 a.m., Anthony, who always curls up with me when he sneaks into our bed in the middle of the night, climbed in beside his Daddy.

“My baby doesn’t need his mommy anymore,” I joked. “I guess it’s time to have another one.”

“You don’t need another baby,” Jerry said, before pausing and adding, “right now.”

“What?” I sputtered.

“You don’t need another baby … right now,” Jerry repeated.

And then he went to sleep.

But not me. Because my mind was racing.

“Right now”? What exactly does that mean?

Does Jerry think he might want another baby at some point?

Will I? Maybe when Anthony starts kindergarten?

Is it a sign that the crib has been posted on craigslist for weeks and still hasn’t sold? Because it’s a really nice crib, and we’re practically giving it away.

I finally did drift off into slumber and awoke this morning to a kiss from my sweet little boy … who then wrapped his hands around his sister’s neck and tackled her onto the bed as she screamed, “Stop it, Anthony! An-thon-neeee!”

And that quickly, the bug was squashed once again.



  1. DO NOT GET RID OF THE CRIB AND BABY CLOTHES ( unless you get jer neutered ! ) Cos what do Holsberger women do best? The second they are gone you will get pregnant, keep them for insurance!

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