Once upon a time, being an only child myself, I was certain that I would like to have three children of my own. THEN, after we had our first child I was even more certain that I would not, under any circumstances, be having any more than one. Deep in the throws of as yet undiagnosed post natal depression, I didn't know much, but I did know that one child was waaaaaaay more than enough, let alone two or three! As time passed however I did eventually come around to conceding that maybe, one day, in the distant future, I might think about adding to our family. Possibly.
Enter the day that, for some miraculous reason, I was able to have a nice lie down on my bed and get into a really good book. I can't even imagine where my son must have been. Probably asleep, but I don't recall him really ever napping long enough for that to happen. ANYWAY, I was right into my book, a crime fiction by Harlan Coben if I recall correctly (if you're into crime fiction and you haven't read his stuff, get onto it right now), when my husband turned up...feeling lucky. I'm not exactly sure what lead him to be feeling so lucky this particular day because I can guarantee you that he had been well and truly down on his luck in that department since our aforementioned son was born 14 months earlier (so sorry honey!!).
BUT, not only was he feeling lucky, he was also feeling persistent. I started to a) feel sorry for the poor guy, and b) realise that the quickest way to get back to my book was just to bloody well put out so he would go away again. So, without much further ado the deed was done and, courtesy of the aforementioned sex drought in out house, I was back to my book in no time!! Winning.
WRONG!! In the mother of all misguided and shortsighted mis-steps, 8 months later - in exactly the same room our son was born in less than 2 years before - we welcomed a beautiful yet fiery little princess into the world. We were the exceptionally bewildered parents of TWO children under two!!
That one snap judgment call, to wrest back my 'me time' by fobbing off my husband with a quick shag, set in motion a chain of events which saw me unable to so much as even open a bloody book for what was probably the best part of the next 6 years!!! In for a penny in for a pound, we welcomed our third child exactly two years later to confirm our status as completely fucking bonkers with 3 kids under 4. That, my friends, is one costly session of hoppo bumpo!
While her conception was not exactly what we had in mind, the circumstances surrounding it did have an upside... Everyone knows the little pet gets her fiery nature and propensity for spectacular meltdowns from me, but all it takes is a raised eyebrow and a "I was just trying to read a book" tossed in his direction for my husband to snap into action and assume responsibility for any tantrums or other feral behaviour she may try on.
Similarly, these days my husband is not even permitted to look at me sideways unless there are at LEAST three methods of contraception in play, and may not, under any circumstances, interrupt me while I am reading. Back to winning again!! Woop woop.