Steve had a vasectomy in December, so we’re as done as done can be in regards to having more kids. I mean, every once in a while we muse about adoption, but realistically, if we had really wanted to have more children, neither of us would have been as comfortable as we were with the vasectomy in the first place. Not that I’d ever rule it out 100%, but the farther we move away from having babies, the more content I am with our life.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy babies. It’s just that our life right now is a lot less tiring and quite frankly, a little more fun.
We had a great long weekend. As per our Canada Day tradition, Steve and his buddies went golfing early in the morning, and before noon most of their wives/girlfriends/children had trickled over to our house. The kids splashed in the wading pool, whipped down the slide, jumped on the swings, thoroughly filled themselves with Smarties and freezies and hot dogs and strawberry shortcakes. The men came home, half buzzed from beer and sun and we made food and drank cold beer and laughed and listened to music too loud with too many swear words for the amount of children around. By eight o’clock, the kids were ice cream stained and exhausted, so into bed they went while someone lit the fire in the fire pit and we turned the music down lower and drank more beer.
The next day, Steve and I took the girls to their first Nova Scotia Tattoo, which for me, both makes my heart swell with emotion when I hear all those pipes and indicates that summer is truly (and finally!) here. It lasted three hours and they were enthralled the entire time.
Yesterday, while I was downtown with my run clinic, Steve enjoyed his Sunday morning alone time with the kids (it’s good for all of us) and Leila finally learned how to ride her bike.
She had a trike that she flat out refused to even try. Last summer we bought her a 2 wheeler and the most she would do was push the ground with her feet. Leila’s like that – she will staunchly refuse to do something that she thinks she won’t be able to do. Once she decides she’s ready, then she’s off, and yesterday she biked to the park by herself. It’s not baby steps with her, she’ll either do it or she won’t, but you can’t convince her either way. It was the same way with walking. She”could” by the time she was a year old, but just wouldn’t until 16 months. No practice runs on the driveway, just all the way to the park for that girl.
She went out again yesterday late afternoon, biking up and down the street while Steve jogged along beside. Proud of herself, cheeks flushed she gobbled down her dinner. Did you see me out there Mom? Did you see me biking?! Did you cheer for me?
Hell, yeah, baby.