I had the immense privilege to work from home yesterday, while my husband went to work. Our employer took away the President's Day holiday at the beginning of the month, I'm a little salty about it but I'll get over it. So, yes I umm worked from home with 3 children three and under, which if you read that properly means I didn't get much of anything done. Computer time is scarce at best and the time I did have I used to do my grocery shopping. Our day went alright I guess. The girls woke up for the day before the sun. They went down for their first nap at 9:30, at that time Dade and I watched The Incredibles, played Hi Ho! Cherry-O (no cheating with that one), folded laundry(and it got put away), and he tried on clothes for the wedding he is in March. All was going along swimmingly when afternoon nap times rolls around and my little ladies decide a battle of the wills is in store for me. Of, course since I had a laundry list of things to do. The afternoon pressed on I won the battle in that they did stay in their room. They won the battle since I put them in the same crib together to play.
All in all I wouldn't say the day was a complete loss and my thoughts ventured to thinking about more. I got this, I could surely handle one more little one to snuggle and love, teach colors to, play with, clean up after, wipe another butt.
Then it happened as I was making dinner.
I felt the urge.
The urge to go.
No big deal I'll just drop the noodles for the mac and cheese, there is plenty of time to make it to the bathroom.
Yikes my muscles are failing me
(I have to get to the other side of the house and over the gate to the bathroom)
Ouch! I stepped on a little person pirate
Lifting leg near impossible.
How did this happen? I kegeled (made-up?) during both of my pregnancies and did not delivery naturally. I thought my bladder of steel would retain some of its endearing qualities. I'm ok if I can't go out for a night of drinking, trust me I'm past it. I'm even ok if I have to use the facilities once or twice while I am at work. But no warning that "it's time" and then I'm going is so not cool.
So while rational people may contemplate can we financially support another child, do we have an adequate mode of transportation, enough room in our home, I'm asking could I handle another pregnancy and be left with even a shred of continence?