Last night was my first class of Back to School: The Prerequisitioning: Part II. Two nights a week, 6:30 to 8, of the kind of class where the professor spends the entire first session making sure we've all Learned A Little Something About Each Other. It's an interesting enough subject to be engaging but it's a slow pitch, some nice academic training wheels to get me back on the road to Nurse Know-It-All.
Sophia's in school and I am, okay, totally unsurprised by how much we're all liking that. One might argue (cogently) that my need for externally imposed structure was generated in the first place by traditional schooling, but hey, there it is, and it's a little too late to do anything about it now. I yam what I yam, and what I yam is someone who can quite ably get up at 6 a.m. and pack lunches and have school uniforms neatly arrayed in a closet as long as Someone Else is requiring it of me. For her part Sophia seems to love school -- and her kindergarten is worlds away from my own in terms of good teaching and learning expectations. Daphne is enjoying the opportunity to play with all the cool toys without someone snatching them out of her hand.
La Leche League continues apace and I love that too. It's certainly firmed up my resolve to work at least part of the time with new mothers.
So this is all good, right? I have certainly had an easy enough time bidding goodbye to plans for homeschooling, at least until the girls are a little older; as amazing as I think it can be, I think I might not have the right personality to handle my particular kid at this particular age. (Especially not with the other one in the picture.) No regrets there; even if I do feel differently about it later, that's a door we can always open later.
There's one thing I keep worrying like a hangnail, though: whether our family is complete. I am the first to admit I am at my limit right now. "NO MORE, KIDS!" leads nicely to "NO MORE KIDS!"
But then that turns into "No...more kids?" Are we really too far away from "NO! More kids!"...?
I know I can't handle any more right now -- and I know I don't want to delay nursing school much longer. But in focusing on school, am I necessarily closing the door on having more children? My fertility was not so impressive to begin with; I'll be 34 this year, and we all know that your ovaries turn into dessicated cat turds after that. I mean, I know the hot new trend is having your entire ladyparts cryogenically preserved for after you've made partner, but come on, anyone who's ever read an infertility blog (or, um, injected her stomach fat with potent synthetic hormones for months on end) knows what a load of horseshit that is. To even consider adding more when the first one was a shock and the second one a pleasant surprise seems like the height of hubris.
Oh yeah, plus we are seriously going to need my income in another five years. Frankly we could use some now but no job I could get currently would do much more than cover daycare for Daphne.
Of course none of these arguments carry enough weight to make me want another baby now. Therein lies the conflict: I know two is about as much as we can manage right now -- and I'm not entirely happy about that.