David has this ancient CD we like to put in on road trips. It includes the classic "Total Eclipse of the Heart," a little bit of Guns and Roses, and and a couple of random rap songs from the '90s. There's also this Meatloaf song about a guy who says he wants and needs his significant other, but he's never going to love her. The chorus goes, "But don't be sad / 'Cause two out of three ain't bad."
It's ironic, right?
The kind of ironic where the stated meaning is the opposite of the intended meaning. Like sarcasm, but without the tone.
Because being in a relationship where you're wanted and needed but not loved is obviously bad.
Sometimes two out of three is pretty damn good.
Other times, it's heartbreaking.
* * *
We visited friends over the weekend and the girls met their baby for the first time. It was ADORABLE to see how smitten Zuzu and Coco were with the baby. They haven't really been around a baby before and this little miss is about four months old.
I remember being in the hospital with Coco after she was born, and as much as I missed Zuzu, I felt a tiny bit of dread about going home because I just didn't know how I would keep up with both of them and balance both of their needs. Zuzu at age 2 year and 5 weeks had a LOT of needs.
Now, at 3 years and 7 months (OMG!) she's remarkably self-sufficient in many ways. Still challenging, no doubt, but also in a place where she can be a great helper to her little sister.
As I watched them peer into the car seat and coo at the baby and elicit dimpled grins from her, I couldn't help but think about what it would be like to have just one more baby.
* * *
You remember Plan A? It was two kids with an option for three.
Kid number one at age 30. Kid number two at age 33. With the option to slide in Kid number three just before 35.
I thought it was the perfect plan. (hashtag broken record)
Now here I am. At 35. Three pregnancies under my belt (or should I say, still muffin-topping out slightly out over my yoga pants). Two babies at home.
I have three kids.
I have two kids at home.
The math doesn't work. You guys know that.
* * *
Maybe I want three kids at home?
Do I want to have another baby?
I know I'm jealous of people who have three living kids. I'm not jealous of their mini-vans (haha), but I am definitely jealous.
I looked at that adorable baby girl, I looked at my girls fawning all over her. They were SO CUTE. I thought about how amazing it would be to have a trio of little girls. (In my mind, all my babies are and forever would be girls.)
But even as I sat there, smiling wistfully at the three of them, I wasn't longing for another baby. I wasn't feeling nostalgic for newborn diapers and middle-of-the-night breastfeeding and endless snuggles (uh, possibly because Coco is still serving that role in my life). I wasn't thinking back sentimentally to pregnancy, that's for damn sure.
I was looking at these three little girls and my heart was all twisted up.
I was happy. And I was absolutely aching for another baby: my five-year-old baby.
The thing is, I do want three kids. But I want the three I already had. And I just don't think that having a fourth would fix that.
* * *
Now, don't be sad. 'Cause two out of three ain't bad.
Dammit, Meatloaf. That song is ruined for me now.