Often they are sarcastic as well as nasty;
‘No toast and jam for you- bowl of porridge made with water coming right up’.
Usually, as the above suggests, they are relatively trivial and resolved quickly by basically ignoring my rather unpleasant subconscious.
There is one argument though that is in my mind almost constantly, and that is this one;
Should I have another baby?
This isn’t a ‘should I have another baby this year’ or ‘should I have another baby before Sonny starts primary school’, it’s ‘should I have another baby ever’.
If I mention this to Aunty Linda in Blackpool, she is more frank with me than even my subconscious. She will tell me that having no more kids would be cruel to Sonny, and he’ll grow up spoiled and maybe slightly odd.
Lets consider this. Of course he’s going to be spoiled. But even if, in the end, I decide to have an entire school bus of kids, he would be just as spoiled. He’s not going to get many material things; in my house we live in a perpetual recession and have double dipped, treble flipped and backwards skipped into it more than the Coalition et al across the water have in the last few years. Money is tight and the financial forecast doesn’t look set to change, and that’ s the word of my houses’ Chancellor of the Exchequer (me), and Treasurer (also me). That’s fine and we don’t want for anything, but it does mean that spoiling my kid(s) with toys and material ‘stuff’ is unlikely. Spoiling him by cuddling him to near winding, making him laugh and giving him massages before bedtime, he will get loads of. But how would that be different if I had another one, 12 or 70 kids?
As for being slightly odd- well. Sonny could have a rugby team of brothers and sisters. He could have enough brothers and sisters to fill an auditorium- he’d still have Ed and me for parents. Some things are just unavoidable.
This isn’t the seventies (unfortunately, and I wish it were, see my post Regression Revolution), when the economy was good, standard house prices did not resemble the digits in my date of birth, crime rates were less terrifying and women mostly stayed at home cooking stuff, looking after the kids and having Tupperware parties (just in my head?). This is 2012, when the economy has been consistently terrifying for nearly 5 years, house prices are so insultingly, comedy -inflated that they have no place outside of a Frankie Boyle joke, criminals are now let of the hook for ‘minor’ crimes because there’s no more room in prisons for them; and women don’t stay at home making biscuits- they have to go to work because of the house prices, and the economy, and indirectly, the increasing crime levels.
When I’m having an ‘I don’t think I’ll have any more kids’ day, I consider all of the above. If we stop now and have no more children, we will be able to send Sonny to a nice school. He’ll go on all his school trips. We’ll go on holidays. We will be able to get him a car on his 17th birthday and help him get to Uni if that’s what he chooses to do.
Also from a selfish perspective, I am really happy with the way things are. I love my little life, my house, my job, my marriage, sleep. Sonny is a happy little person- would this change so much if he didn’t have a sibling?
I’ll change my mind tomorrow, or the next day, or over the next few weeks, because I always do.