Three – that’s the magic number

Georgina Fuller - 13 Nov 16

Top 10 things I love and loathe about being a mama of three

First off, let me start by saying I know I am very fortunate to have the three healthy children, just as I’d always wanted. I am a third child and growing up, I always felt I was pretty lucky to have both a brother and a sister when most people I knew had just one of each. I felt part of something bigger having two older siblings and loved the fact that – when I joined forces with my brother and sister – we outnumbered our long-suffering parents. I loved the sense of camaraderie, being the baby of the family and being introduced to all manner of cool things which some of my peers were not yet familiar with. The Cure, Pink Floyd, Primal Scream, Just Seventeen, Chuckie Egg, Aston Villa, Grease and Top Gun to name a few. I love the fact that I can give my own children the same sort of family template to grow up with.

There are, however, days when I seriously think that our third child, my beloved baby girl, might just break me. Our eldest is nearly eight and our youngest is two, which means I’ve been watching Peppa Pig/In The Night Garden/Thomas and Friends et al for almost eight years now and it’s showing no sign of abating. I’ve probably got another two years to go which means I’ll have been pretending to ride the sodding Ninky Nonk for a decade by the time I’m through. Not to mention the fact that I can count the number of lie-ins (if lying in bed for 15 minutes whilst the children scream downstairs counts) on one hand I’ve had since our firstborn arrived. God help me. These are the top ten things I love and loathe (often simultaneously) about having three children.

1) I personally don’t think I would have felt ‘complete’ if I hadn’t had another child – regardless of whether it was going to be a boy or a girl – partly because I was one of three, my mother and grandmother were both one of three and it’s always been something of a magic number for me. I definitely felt I was well and truly ‘done’ when we had our daughter so there will never be that nagging sense of ‘what if’ or doubt.

2) Being well and truly outnumbered. I remember a friend saying two children suited her because she had two hands, one for each child, and that struck me as perfectly sensible and wise. I was pregnant with my third by that stage thought so it was too late to go back! Even when my husband is here, we’re still outnumbered.

3) When you have three, if someone takes away one, even if it’s just for an hour, it suddenly seems so much easier and more manageable. But then the third one returns and all hell breaks loose again because one usually feels left out in some way.

4) There are only about three or four places I will go on my own with the three of them and, with a husband who usually works 60-70 hour weeks, I am often on my own with them. I can just about face Sainsbury’s, our local park, McDonalds (don’t judge me) and soft-play but I wouldn’t risk anywhere else with the risk of screaming tantrums, tears and meltdowns (mine – not theirs.)

5) The responsibility – three lots of potty training, three lots of homework, three lots of washing, three adolescence to go through…need I go on? If we had stuck to two children, one of us could have sat down and done homework with each of them and there would have been a one to one ratio. With three, one is always going draw the short straw.

6) I’m over it. As much as I loved being the third child myself, I often felt that my brother and sister got the best of the National Trust trips, holidays, riding lessons etc whereas my parents had more or less given up by the time they got to me. I pretty much bought myself up (under the guise of ‘healthy neglect’, ‘character building’ and the fact that I was, according to my fun-loving mama, a ‘natural survivor.’) I can see myself taking exactly the same sort of approach with our daughter.

7) Middle child syndrome. Several said to me after our daughter was born that I would have to have another one so that our four-year-old wouldn’t become the much maligned middle child. Sure, I’ll just pee on a stick repeatedly again for several months on end, get huge and (after three C-sections already) sliced open once more, then subject myself to endless sleepless nights, sore boobs and another round of stretch marks because that would mean that one of my kids may not feel quite as left out. That makes perfect sense. Not.

8) Costs of having three kids. Everything is geared towards two parents and two kids. Family tickets for Legoland, Center Parcs, hire cars, normal cars, houses etc. So having a third is ruinously expensive.

9) Safety in numbers. If, God forbid, anything should happen to one of my darling babies, then at least they would have another sibling to prop them up and, when their dad and I are no longer around, they will hopefully have each other.

10) I get to experience all those magic little firsts – smiles, steps, words, not once, not twice but three times and each time the joy remains completely undimmed and each time I have marvelled at the amazing little person we have created. For that, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Georgina Fuller

Georgina Fuller is a freelance journalist, reluctant realist and mother of three; Charlie (8), Edward (5) and Jemima (3.) She writes for The Daily Telegraph, The Guardian, Red, Smallish, Little London magazine and anyone else who pays her. After eight years in London, she now lives in a Midsomer Murdersesque village on the edge of the Cotswolds.

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