I grew up with my older sister always at my side.
There are two years, four months between us and for most of our childhood and teenage days, we got on pretty well. Yes, of course we bickered, shouted and sulked with each other. There may have even been (definitely was) a few punches thrown during our teenage rages, but I really can’t imagine it being any other way.
Bored moments were few and far between. I always had someone to play with, someone to talk to, someone to annoy, someone’s head to fart on (yes, girls do that too). On holidays we would explore together and make up our own games. At home we would spend whole evenings having ‘laughing fits’ about a secret joke only we would find funny, or just because we were ‘being silly’ fooling around.
My sister is like the other half to me – even though we are so different in many ways, we share exactly the same principles, and we know what each other’s thinking without having to ask. But above all, we love each other. I really don’t think there’s a love the same as the one siblings share – someone who will always have your back. Someone who will always be honest with you. Someone who will never judge you. I realise that not all siblings get on so well and that we are lucky.
So I guess I always imagined that I would ‘have more than one’ child myself. Two to be precise.
And then we had Taylor and now she’s at that age where we’ve started to think about when we might want to try for a second…She’s at that lovely age where she’s having so much fun and she’s sleeping through and she’s walking and she’s started nursery and I’m starting to get back into work. And I’m loving every minute of it…
Do I really want to start all over again?
I’ll be the first to admit that I found those first nine months so much harder than I thought I would. The sleepless nights, the incessant crying, the constant worry. And that’s not even thinking about that little task called labour… Although I loved my little newborn with every cell in my body, I found the first year…well, a little boring actually. I can think of better ways to spend three hours of my day than waiting for a burp.
And now that Taylor’s getting more independent by the day, we can’t help but start to look forward. To a time when she’ll be able to sit in a restaurant and occupy herself without us having to take turns walking around with her, to a time when we can go on family days out to the theme park, or cuddle up for a lazy Sunday afternoon on the sofa watching Disney films. And I can’t tell you how excited I am about actually being able to step into a cinema again…even if it is to watch a U rated.
Are two children easier than one?
So do I really want to start all over again?
Yes, I do. I’m certainly not in any hurry – I’m loving my time with Taylor at the moment and I want to enjoy it a little longer. But hopefully one day we will be able to give her a sibling.
I have to say that we have been so tempted to join the ‘one and done’ clang – and I completely see why many parents choose to stick with one. In fact, most of my only child friends are also of this clang, which assures me that being an only child definitely has its perks!
But looking forward, I can’t help thinking that Taylor will make a great older sister and would love a little pal to play with. There’s something about two adults and one child which makes me feel so responsible. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I quite like the idea of chatting to my husband over a meal out whilst the kids chat to each other. I like the idea of having my husband next to me on our family holiday whilst the kids play in the pool together.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to sit on the sidelines – I love a good kid’s game – but I feel like the demands would be much higher with one (in the long-term). And those trips to the theme park and the cinema will surely be double the fun with two? I won’t have to sit on my own on the dodgems…We will just have to wait a little longer for those days.
But for the time being, let’s just enjoy right now.