Months back, Steve and I were at the park with Stella, and we began chatting with one of the other Dads who was there with this wife and two children. One of the kids was Stella’s age and the other was an infant, lounging lazily in a carseat perched on a nearby picnic table. This was all way back before we had even considered thinking about the idea that another child would ever enter our lives. We had our hands full, and told him as much. He, without hesitation, related the wisdom that having two was really like having three. I am reminded of this conversation often these days and wish I could track him down and call him a LIAR! Having two is NOT like having three…it is like having SEVEN!

Then, there was the conversation Steve and I had the other night wherein we wondered, out loud, what our lives would be like, right now, if we had not had kids. There was the obvious talk about how our careers would probably be in different places, and how our house would not feel like the Old Lady in the Shoe, and that we would have no idea of the going street value of a good night’s sleep, but mostly, we realized that unless we had undertaken some big hobby that involved expensive equipment and extensive travel, we would probably be bored.

Juxtaposing these two revelations is how we keep from succumbing to complete and total implosion.

• Upon making new car purchase, realize that we now have two kids and station-wagon. Official ruling requires that 50 points are deducted from our overall coolness score.
• After having Stella – literally – push me to the brink of tears numerous times over the last couple of weeks, decide that I need to have a shirt made for her that says “Worlds Most Irrational Human” and make her wear it as a reminder that you can’t negotiate with a terrorist.
• Stella now officially attending Pre-School. Out of desparation, will be requesting a copy of their discipline packet.
• Witnessed the emergence of two jagged white peaks emerging from Porter’s gumline – his first real defense mechanism against an unrully older sibling.
• Shake fist at ceiling each time Stella refuses to spit out her toothpaste – (instead choosing to eat it). Fight the urge to throw myself into traffic when she decides that – in a pinch – the best way to get my attention is to make spit bubbles drip down her chin. I think this is what you call irony. I call it a reason to pull my own hair – as it redirects my pain.
• Take lovely vacation alone with husband, while children are foisted upon unsuspecting grandparents. Return rested. Within 24 hours, exhausted again.
• Sell the Neon.
• Put Porter in day care.
• Finally get to see Talladega Nights.

Ending on a high note: Insanity averted.