A YEAR AS A MUM OF TWO - THE REALITY

A year ago I was just beginning my life as a mum of two, I was nervous, unsure of myself and a little overwhelmed. Two children under the age of three hasn't been easy, I'd be really lying if I said that we've all breezed through this past year and I'm already wanting to pop out another. Quite the contrary, the thought literally makes me want to whizz John off to the snip clinic and never see him return. But, it has been amazing. I know for now that the hardest parts are over, and day by day life gets that little easier with two little boys under my belt.

If you're a parent to one and contemplating having a second, or if you've already got number two brewing in the baby basket, then do not worry, I don't think there is any adjustment harder than going from zero to one child, particularly not the transition from one to two. I remember when I first had Patrick and said this to my Mum, she just reminded me that he was still only a baby and life wouldn't always be as simple as it was then, with two children and in part she was right. But, I still wholeheartedly stand by the notion that the transition to having just one child was way harder. When I became pregnant with P I was pretty confident in my ability to parent, by no standards am I supernanny but I had raised a two year old who thrived well and I was extremely proud of, I knew I was capable of that at least if it all went tits up after two. A year later I can let you know it didn't. Was my Mum right and did it get harder? Yes, but still, not unmanageable. Patrick was quite an easy baby for the first six months though to close family he came across incredibly clingy towards me, I didn't really mind so much as he slept like a dream which made the clingy-ness easier to deal with during the day. Plus, I was his sole support for most of the day and night so of course he would be very dependent on me. When seven months hit and I the whiff of a return to work in the air, it was as though he took a stance and thought 'screw this', sleep was out of the window and I felt really quite helpless for a while. It must be teething? Reflux? Sleep regressions? A leap? ANYTHING! I blamed it on anything, when in reality it was just Patrick. At 12 months old I can now see it's in his nature to be pretty headstrong and even from that early age I think it was his way of trying to assert some authority, which he did, by depriving me of any sort of peace. We battled through though and life became easy again. Noah was a dream during this time, he always really has been - quite the textbook child, hit milestones early and never to this day gives me any sort of grief. I'm really proud of that boy because he has just taken brotherhood in his stride.

So... number three? No. As much as I harp on about the adjustment being quite easy, I'm not about to sign me up for a third. There are many reasons but logistics are definitely one, I think the transition from two to three would be as painful as the first, and I'm quite content sitting well within my comfort zone for now.