My one and done
Her: I’m not against it per se but, Logan, if we have a kid, say, next year. You’ll be 73 when she’s 21. Do you really want to be 73 with a 21-year-old kid?
Me: Whoa, I never thought of it like that.
Alison was the oldest of three; two girls and a boy.
As the middle of three, we were the mirror of that; two boys and a girl.
She always wanted two or three kids, whereas I always wanted three. My son was always supposed to be the oldest of – ideally for me – three kids.
After Alison died, the thought of more kids was the furthest thing from my mind. After I started feeling better, I kept thinking that I needed to get into a stable relationship ASAP so that I could give the kid some siblings, which he’s always wanted.
That might have put undue pressure on my relationships after Alison.
The Firecracker and I discussed having more kids. I still dream of having more kids but I’m 52 this week (!!).
The practicality of having more kids seems less practical by the minute.
Although the NFL Player insists that we won’t regret it if we do – and he’s right, I’m sure we wouldn’t regret it. The issue is everything involved in it.
And the fact that the kid’s birth was so much joy wrapped up in so much horror further makes me more hesitant.
To this end, I’ve begun giving away alla the things I’ve been keeping the basement for the past seven or eight years in the hopes of having another kid.
Gave away a baby diaper pail, a chair that Alison got to nurse on, and the kid’s crib, which was probably the hardest thing to give away.
I love the boy in a way that I don’t have words to adequately express it.
And I’m sure I’d love whatever siblings he might have.
So, I do what I’ve done my entire life with everything, and do as Dumas said to do, Wait and hope.
Location: my old gym, shooting more scenes
Mood: thoughtful
Music: Open up the door, c’mon sing me home (Spotify)
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