Twinkle: Well, Now I Have To Have A Fourth Kid

And I'm not sure my uterus can take it.

But I have to do it to spite Fun Sink.

Picture it: a joyful rehearsal dinner at a family wedding weekend (my brother-in-law's lovely and joyful family). Everyone's smiling and toasting the happy couple. No one's wine glass ever goes empty. The appetizers and laughter are flowing. And the matriarch of the groom's family comes over to pat my belly and tell me about how great it is to have daughters. (She's a mother of four girls).

She tells us about the birth of the fourth, how she was sedated in a 1950s maternity ward haze, a la Betty Draper, and she saw the umbilical cord and thought it was a boy. Mr. Twinkle and I were relating the tale to Fun Sink, who asked what we were laughing about, and then I said, "Don't worry, Mr. Twinkle--I'm sure our fourth will be a boy."

I was joking, clearly, but if the day ever comes when Mr. Twinkle and I want a fourth child, we won't be taking a public opinion poll first. Well, Fun Sink starts in on how SHE doesn't personally care what we do but WE'RE going to have to be the ones to EDUCATE them all and PAY for their weddings. She says if we have a fourth, she'll take three out of four at once but she's not taking all four. Well guess who does take all four? Sitters Service. Same price as one, so if she doesn't want my children she doesn't have to see them. I'll gladly pay the $40 fee to avoid putting any undue burden on her, and to keep her dour personality from poisoning my sweet girls.

I see what she said as a threat, and I am ready to meet that threat with a fourth pregnancy. In yo' face, b!tch. Want to keep playing? Or do you think you want to shut yo' mouth before we decide to make it a fifth?

Also, we were discussing our new purchase: a Honda Pilot, which is basically a school bus that seats 8. (Need a DD? Climb into my third row). She was talking about maybe getting a new car, and what she should get. I told her to get a fun little convertible, and she's all, "How am I going to drive your kids around?" First of all, no one asked you to, bitch. I said, "Well, my idea is that when you take my children, you can just take my car, too, and I'll take your convertible." The table erupts in laughter at my cleverness, all but Fun Sink, who says, "Well, that's manipulative." How is it manipulative, I ask you? It seems to me that everyone wins--she doesn't have to drive a school bus most of the time (don't get me wrong--I love my new school bus), and she gets a fun car out of the deal, so how exactly is that manipulative? I said as much, but she is a joyless Fun Sink so all she could see out of the deal, somehow, was manipulation.

End of the night, one of the four daughters of the matriarch comes up to say how cute my children are and how I should send them to spend a weekend with her, because she's an empty nester. Then she starts talking about how her kids are in college now and she can have fun, and she's all about having fun. Fun, fun, fun. I like this girl. Fun sink comes up and says, "Yeah, you can have fun for about 10 years until you have grandkids and then you can start taking care of them." Really, Fun Sink, because it seems like you're always asking me when you can take my kids, and you never seem to feel like you're getting enough time with them. But, if it's all such a burden to you, like I said before, there's always Sitters Service.

Also, Fun Sink has a tacky looking French manicure right now. I'm just reporting the facts; I swear I don't mean it b!tchy.