How Kids Are Like Heroin

     Kids are heroin. They are destructive to your physical, mental and societal well being, and you keep coming back for more, you just can't resist.

Your first pregnancy, the one where you took naps without the risk of waking up to wanton destruction, and subsequent child lure you in with the false high of their first smiles, the adorable babbling, and the tiny clothes.
So you think... "Let's have another. We can handle this."

Then there is two of them...
Here is where you start to feel the pain... the lack of sleep, money, and time, not to mention no cuddles with the hubby (unless you are forming a two year old sandwich).
But, somehow, it getting harder is a challenge, as if you are waving red in front of a bull.
People say three is so hard. But you can do it. The oldest can be so much help now. You are ready for this! You got it!
So you pep talk your self into having a third...

This is when you realize where your addiction has left you...
Broke. Tired. Bruised. Sore.

How likely is she to sit on
the baby if I go potty?

...and the high from those little booties and the tiny giggles just doesn't quite break through the fog that your sleep deprived zombie brain lives in. You stare at the third, loving them more than anything in the world, trying to formulate coherent sentences but only gibberish comes out.

Here is your life on three kids...
You dress thinking things like...
     How much spit up will this shirt hide?
     If a child hangs on my pocket will these pants end up around my ankles in the middle of a Walmart parking lot like last time?
     Can you really even see that hole?

There really is no reason to spend time thinking about what actually looks good on your body because your body has been so stretched by pregnancy, sleeplessness, stress, and a deep craving for chocolate ice cream that even when your blessedly wonderful husband extols the beauty of your form you stare at him wondering if photoshop has somehow been installed directly into his brain.

Of course the baby needs to
wear the choking hazard
wings, Mom.

You can no longer carry on a conversation.
Instead you have disjointed half finished bits of information exchange floating around, each sentence puntuated by "No, no, no!", "Get that out of your mouth!" and "We don't hit our friends." until most of the meaning is lost and never mind there being a point.

You long for escape
 Then they leave...
 Kindergarten, summer camp, or weekend with the grandparents...
 And all you can do is talk about the kids, what are they doing, what are we going to do when they get back, what they did last week.
And worse than that you worry, worry, worry...
Every night that they are gone you lie awake very aware of the fact that you didn't check to see if they were breathing and sniffling about the fact that when you dropped them off they didn't even look at you, just mumbled "Bye mom" and took off running.

Selfie of a six year old.

You rush back to pick them up envisioning running towards one another with open arms and instead you find that the joyful energetic child you dropped off has used up all their good behavior points while gone and you get the leftover troll points instead.
Within an hour you're ready to send them back so that you can miss them again.

But then your baby, the third, the one who didn't get a nursery, who ate off the floor, didn't have a changing table, and developed an early and uncanny ability to pull full glasses of liquid into your lap, learns to walk.
...

Your heart starts beating fast, your palms get sweaty...
You don't have a baby, you have a toddler!

Your mind starts to wander towards the inevitable place... but your push the thought aside and sleep though the night for the third time in a row.
But it keeps popping up...
Finally you hold someones newborn.
You really should have known better.
And then the last straw.
The moment when you cross the line and there is no turning back.
You really just can't help yourself...

You smell it!

That is when those sneaky addiction thoughts slip in and the what if's start...
     What if we have one more?
     What is the big deal about adding another?
     Four isn't that many more than three in the grand scheme of things.
     You've done it before and it worked out just fine.
     Just one more...
     Just one last time...
   
See...

Heroin