In our household, this year, our daddy is a daddy to 2 kids plus bump. I think he may just be deserving of an award or a high five or something. So, how are we coming to grips with this new addition to our family, you ask? Let me break it down for you: it’s all about economies of scale, according to my husband. According to me, it’s all about staying positive and hoping for the best. See where these two may, and often do, clash?
3rd time round, pregnancy is a little different. Long gone are the luxurious showers where I used to take long relaxing bubble baths while singing along with some acoustic covers, something I used to do on a nightly basis with the first two pregnancies. Who has time for that now? I’m now honestly too tired and worn out to do anything other than take my damn vitamins. Oh, and blink.
Instead of calling it three times a charm (I am after all, the 3rd in my family), my husband boils this whole family-expansion thing down to a matter of economies of scale. Economies of scale is really all about going from two to three.
So how did he explain it to me? “Economies of scale is the cost advantage that arises with increased output of a product…” That’s verbatim. Ugh. Did I mention that my hubby works in finance and thinks about things differently than me? It’s more than a male-female, Mars vs. Venus thing. Much more. It’s actually more like he’s logical and I experience bouts of psychosis. Yes, I can admit it. But only because they are brief bouts. Hey, I said B-R-I-E-F!
In going from two kids to three, my husband’s reaction is that of pure… how do I say this? No, not joy… more like pure logic to his financial mind and his response was, “I’m excited.” When I asked HOW the F he wasn’t freaking out he said he wanted to explain something to me: economies of scale. Simple as that. Okay, I know what the economy is and I sure know what a scale is especially since with pregnancy #3 I’ve been seriously puking my guts out. And have lost about 4 kilos. Disaster. The only thing I can seem to tolerate is pineapple and grilled asparagus. Super random and annoyingly healthy. I know.
So, back to economies of scale. When we had just Gnocchi (baby #1), the conversation was more about what we would have. Cannoli (baby#2) was more about how our dynamic would change and with Ravioli (current bump and baby#3) it’s been about what “cuts” to make to accommodate this third piece of our puzzle and help us keep our sanity.
His suggestions were as follows:
- Can’t they all just share…umm everything?
- Which two should we send to school? They can share notes with the third.
- Can’t we just make them stand outside and hose them all down together and call it bath time? No toys. No fuss.
- Let’s have one big meal once a day for everyone like, you know, what is that called? A pig’s trough?
- Potty training Shmotty training. Diapers for all. All the time. Without fail. Until they want to be trained. And if that’s at age 11 then so be it. SIMPLIFICATION.
All in all, it’s safe to say their mind just works differently. And so, we’re back to that whole Mars-Venus thing. Thank God he has acknowledged that we can’t simply give this third baby a number, and that he does in fact need a name. Finally
