If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you know that I’ve been grappling (check out that SAT word) with adding baby number three to our brood. I’ve written reasons why I really want to be knocked up again. And some really valid reasons why I would have to be out of my mind to let my Eggo get Preggo.

Here’s a little secret I’m going to let you in on: Hubby and I decided we are going to pull the trigger and try for another baby, but then it happened. The Baby Blocker. Not familiar with a Baby Blocker? Well, let me introduce you to her.

Remember being in your glory days  single days of hitting the bar and party scene? I know, it’s been a while, but you remember those questionable fashion, hair and make out partner choices, right? Did you have that one friend that made it virtually impossible to capture a guy’s attention? Maybe a handsome fella caught your eye, you were having great conversation or he was impressed with the way  you drop it like it’s hot on the dance floor. Then that one friend comes along and ruins it all by saying something lame or chasing him away with her Carlton Banks dance moves, or worse she starts to rub up on him in a really bad Pamela Anderson kinda way. Remember her? The “c@*k block”— I know, gross word but really that’s what she was.

Well imagine you and your main squeeze decide that more is merrier and you get ready to “pull the goalie” and BAM your two year old throws hourly tantrums, fights you on every single loved decision you need to make in a day, screams loud enough to break every window in the house, decides she doesn’t want to be cared for by anyone other than Mommy, but most days acts like she doesn’t even like Mommy, and is generally just, you know, a terrible two. Well friends, meet the Baby Blocker because under no circumstance would you DREAM of having another baby right now. No thanks. This shop is closed.

My son is still easy breezy other than the constant boo boos, wrestling, jumping off high places, refusal to wear pants, and finds bodily functions and fluids a hoot, the kid is pretty much a peach.  But that little one is giving me a run for my money.

I’ve discussed this Baby Blocker phenomenon and turns out, they exist in lots of places outside of our home. It’s true! In fact, after a brief survey (OK I asked my friends), it seems that many second and third children only became a reality because the Baby Blocker went on a brief hiatus or reared it’s tantrum head a few months after conception.

It’s gotten so bad that Hubby will try to give me a back rub and I run away like a bat out of hell. From across the room I yell “Watch it, buddy. I know where your back rubs lead!”

While the Baby Blocker was serving another sentence in time out, I sent up a small prayer to help me make it to bedtime without diving headfirst into a bottle of Cabernet.

So where do we stand with bambino numero tres? No time soon. Hopefully the Baby Blocker drops the act before I hit menopause. There is hope; while I was writing this, the Baby Blocker snuggled up next to me, gave me the sweetest kisses and told me she “really loves Mommy.” Oh wait, she just threw her chocolate milk at her brother. She’s BACK!!!