Most of you are very aware that I was never planning to have children, let alone two!  However, when I see my boys together and how they interact, I know that I have made the right decision.  No one can make a child laugh harder or easier than a sibling.  Little Cambridge laughs at Leighton when he's dancing in the living room, when he's saying "Hi" to him, when he's making faces... and in those moments, I feel in my heart that they were always meant to be together.

Sure, not all siblings are the best of friends, and there will be fights and disagreements along the way, but I do think that children need someone (a brother or sister) that they can share a connection with for a lifetime.  Selfishly, when I was trying to decide whether or not to have a second, I tried to poll only children to support my case to only have one.  That backfired.  Every one of those singles told me they hated it and always longed for a sibling.  Of course I wanted the best for my Leighton and our family so we went ahead and decided to have another (despite my disdain for pregnancy and my overall dislike of babies).

Luckily for me, Cambridge is as easy of a baby as they come, and he just adores his big brother.  For now, Leighton loves his little baby brother, and their relationship is something I am looking forward to watching mature and evolve.  

If, for some reason, you're on the fence about having a second child, it's time to be selfless, and just pull the trigger (although, I am not a proponent for telling people how to plan their families).  Even though it's not as simple as my grandmother always said ("Just add another potato to dinner"), it is a decision that will impact your life forever.  Having children is like starting a major home renovation: sure, it's hell and a nightmarish struggle in the beginning, a horror that will make you question your decision, but the end result will be more amazing than you could have ever imagined.

Looking back at my childhood, I have very fond memories of Halloween: first we would make a stop at my grandparents' house across the street where my grandma would always give us a shiny, bright red apple (which, by the way I always thought was lame because it was candy I wanted), then it was off to the local fire department for games and more candy, and then finally, off to suffer the cold Wisconsin moonlit evening in our costumes covered by winter coats - good times, good times.

However, now that I'm a parent, I see things from a completely different perspective.  When I learned that our local fire department hosted an annual "Halloween party", I thought to myself, "I remember those - I bet Leighton would love that.  Let's go this year!"  Okay... clearly when you are a child, you don't see the chaos and crying all around you at an event such as that.  Kati (our au pair), Leighton, and I had to park quite a distance away from the fire department and walk in the freezing weather all the way to the station.  As we walked, a toddler in front of us started to melt down and go limp as his parents desperately tried to pretend like they weren't going to lose it and head back to the car.

When we finally arrived, the place was packed, and my crowd claustrophobia kicked in, making me dizzy and disoriented.  What was I thinking?  What had we gotten ourselves into?  It was madness.  Why were there so many people participating in what seemed like chaos?  I didn't know what to do or where to go.  There were long lines for every game, there wasn't much candy readily available, and so we headed towards the huge inflatable jump house.  Leighton went in but came right back out as another screaming, crying toddler exited, scaring him.  Again, he entered the jump house of germs, and another child emerged crying.  Why was this a good idea?  We have a jump house at home... one not filled with chaos and screaming children.  It was just awful.  

I hastily grabbed one piece of candy, put it in his bag, and raced toward the door.  There was a "haunted house" (which was pretty much a dimly lit, stuffy hallway with smoke and creepy music) that we stepped all of two feet into before we heard, "It's too scary; let's go home!"  Sigh.  Nope.  Not doing this again.  As we made the long, cold walk back to the car, Leighton had a smile on his face, and I asked him if he had fun.  "Yeah!"  Were we at the same event just then?  

Back in the car, he dumped his bag out, and held tightly to that mini piece of candy with a big, happy smile on his face.  I couldn't understand it.  How could have enjoyed that?  We were there for all of fifteen minutes.  

After an evening of trick-or-treating in our neighborhood, I called my mom and asked her if the Halloween parties at our local fire department had been like I had just experienced, and with a tired remembrance in her voice, she said yes.  But, I remembered fun games, fun times, and candy.  How can the memories and experiences of parent and child be so different?  I just don't know.  Well, the sacrifices of parenting can only go so far, and although I am willing to endure trick-or-treating in below-freezing weather, I am never again going to attend a "Halloween party" at the fire department... even though there were a few treats for the adults... fireman eye candy!