Before long, I was back hovering over the toilet, pregnancy test poised ready for action. When I was faced with the familiar blue line, I have to admit, I was just a little bit scared. Pregnancy was new and exciting the first time round, but now I knew exactly what to expect and I wasn't sure I had it in me. I always knew I wanted to give Chicken a sibling, primarily as a play thing, I'd had enough of the tedious dolls tea parties and making amorphous blobs out of Plasticine, but was that really a good enough reason to have another child?
Chicken was thirteen months when the blue line confirmed the suspicion and I was still far from having the parenting thing licked. How would I fair adding another pair of legs to the equation? The act itself had not been a conscious decision; out with the extra loose boxer shorts and healthy snacks and in with drunken nights when Bob was occasionally allowed to take advantage with a begrudging, "Oh get on with it then and hurry up!" I'm glad it happened that way as I'm not sure I could have ever mustered the courage otherwise; sentenced to a life squashed onto a midget chair with my knees under my chin asking Barbie if she takes sugar with her tea. I chanced a rebellion once by saying, "You know Barbie doesn't take sugar? She doesn't even drink tea - because - SHE'S PLASTIC!" All Chicken said in reply was, "Silly mummy, sit down."
I found it ludicrously easy to ignore Bob while I wrestled with mummyhood, allowing him to evaporated into nothing more than a snoring lump in the bed and someone who cooked my meals (I know, wasn't I spoiled?). He became the silent partner and watched from the wings my obsession with Chicken border on madness with not a breath of criticism. Being a measured character, he suspected correctly that any intervention would have almost certainly resulted in a nasty incident involving a rolling pin and a trip to A & E, so he sensibly left me to it while I devoted my time to Chicken's well being with hardly a nod towards my own, so the thought of two of them sent my bonkers barometer to its limit. I imagined myself leaving the house in nothing more than my Marks and Sparks knickers and bra having forgotten to get myself dressed. But more than that, I seriously worried that I couldn't possibly have room to love another baby - certainly not as much as I loved Chicken; how could I when I felt my love stores were operating at full capacity already? How was I supposed to love and nurture two kids? It was hard enough keeping my eyes on one, and I had two eyes! Oh shit! Why didn't I stick to dogs? (Can you imagine if I'd had twins? I would have been carted away faster than you can say loony bin!) Despite my fears, I had no choice, it was happening regardless, so I waited anxiously for the birth ruminating on whether padded cells were really padded or just cushioned and whether straight-jackets were still legal in such institutions as I was sure that was where I was destined to end up.
My due date came and went once more. Chicken had been five days late, but this one really took the piss by going five better than her sister and hanging on in there for ten days! (Mind you, I couldn't blame her, I would have been reluctant to be released into a world with me at the helm as well!)
You'll be pleased to read that I'm going to spare you any more tales of poo popping labour, suffice to say, I had my epidural booked well in advance and took along my own Andrex. I'm happy to report that was an unnecessary precaution and I was soon looking at another baby girl plonked onto my chest - Tuna was born. To be frank, she wasn't instantly pleasing to the eye, as the photos attest. Firstly, she was blue, with rivers of black hair plastered to her scalp and blood red lips. My first thoughts were, bloody hell, I've given birth to another Muppet! Her face was screwed up into the most angry of expressions while her eyes remained steadfastly glued shut in protest at the light. She was clearly none too pleased at having been dragged out of her warm and cosy haven and demonstrated her displeasure with a blood curdling scream - a scream she exercised thoroughly until she was one year old and had learnt to walk - I kid you not; she had me reaching for the fag packet almost before I'd left the hospital!
So, what of the love I feared I could never share? Although she did her utmost to test me - with her unconventional looks and powerful lungs, I felt my heart pump and swell until it seemed the size of a pumpkin, instantly ensuring there would be plenty of room to accommodate our latest addition (a bloody good job too because she didn't make it easy), I was besotted at first glance.
What I hadn't predicted, and was pleasantly surprised to find, was that we had provided Chicken with so much more than just a play thing (not that Chicken saw it that way, she welcomed her like a verruca!). Far from adding to my obsessive anxieties, she in fact relieved them; the microscopic lens I had permanently trained on Chicken expanded to a wide angle, affording her a little freedom to grow and explore away from my suffocating, controlling tendencies - a practise which could only have spelled doom come her teen years. I'm not saying I relinquished control completely; let's just say, I would still be insisting on holding Chicken's hand when walking up and down stairs (even now at the age of ten!) had Tuna not come along to divert my attention. I had to let go and leave some things to fate; it physically wasn't possible to be at their side every minute, and neither of them have fallen down the stairs.
Putting my neurotic approach to parenting to one side, I believe the greatest gift we've given them is each other. They'll each have a sympathetic ear to chew on when I won't let them join Facebook or stay out longer than 9 o'clock. We still have a couple more years until we're at that point, but I can hear them now, "God, Mum's such an unreasonable cow!" If I'm escaping with only being called a "cow", I'll be happy, but this is my projection into the future, so I'm biased. There is one thing I'm sure of though; when that time comes, I'll definitely be shouting back, "Why didn't I stick to dogs?"
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