Jag tror att ju fler barn, desto bättre…

Jag och min fru är nu fyrtiofyra år gamla. För en och en halv månad sedan blev vi föräldrar igen. Vi hade redan fem barn, alla pojkar, och nu äntligen har vi fått en flicka!

Vår relation började tidigt; vi träffades redan på gymnasiet och det råkade bli så att hon födde vårt första barn när hon var sexton år gammal. Det har aldrig påverkat vår kärlek negativt tvärtom, det har stärkt banden mellan oss och vi gifte oss snabbt.

Mina föräldrar har alltid stöttat oss och när vi fick veta, vid tjugo års ålder, att vårt andra barn var på väg blev alla oerhört glada.

En dag sa min mamma till mig att hon själv hade önskat att ha åtminstone två barn, men hon och pappa fick inte det, så de uppskattar verkligen att få ta hand om sina barnbarn.

Att vara pappa är inte alltid enkelt; det finns stunder som är otäcka när barnen blir sjuka och det finns både roliga och sorgsna moment efter familjegräl. Men detta påverkar inte min kärlek till mina barn och min fru. Jag tror att så länge vi har möjligheten att få barn, ska vi ta emot dem. Jag och min fru känner oss lyckliga och har inga planer på att sluta; vi vill ha fler barn.

Tycker ni att denna inställning är rätt?

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Jag tror att ju fler barn, desto bättre…
What’s Going On Now? Where Are You Going? And Who’s Meant to Be Making Dinner? — Where are you dashing off to? Someone has to cook dinner! — worried her husband as he watched what Antonina did after the row with his mum. Antonina glanced out the window. Gloomy clouds hung overhead, though it was already early spring. In their small northern English town, sunny days were a rare thing. Maybe that’s why the people here always seemed so glum and chilly. Antonina herself noticed she’d stopped smiling and that the frown line on her forehead made her look at least ten years older. — Mum! I’m going out for a walk, — announced her daughter, Ellie. — Uh-huh, — Antonina nodded. — What’s with the “uh-huh”? Hand over some cash. — Hey, since when are walks no longer free? — she sighed. — Mum! Stop with all the questions! Come on, hurry! That’s not enough. — It’s plenty for an ice cream. — Stingy! — said Ellie, but her voice faded as she slammed the door behind her. I don’t believe it… — Antonina shook her head, remembering what a sweet girl Ellie once was before the teenage years hit. — Toni, my stomach’s growling! Will it be much longer?! — complained her husband, Tom. — Have it yourself, — she said indifferently, setting the plate on the table. — Maybe you could bring it to me? Antonina nearly threw the pot. What does he think… — We eat in the kitchen, Tom. Want it, eat it. Don’t want it, don’t. — She sat down at the table, alone. Fifteen minutes later Tom wandered into the kitchen. — It’s cold… Yuck… — I left it for you. — I told you! Not a bit of love or caring! You know I’m watching the football! — grumbled Tom between mouthfuls. — Tastes awful. Antonina rolled her eyes. With football, Tom was like a different person. Bets, memorabilia, expensive tickets… though he’d never been interested in sport when they were young. Not bothering to sit at the table, Tom grabbed a tin for ‘atmosphere’, some crisps from the shop, and went back to the telly. And Toni was left to clean up the dirty dishes. All that effort for nothing. No one even noticed. She was utterly exhausted after her hospital shift, working as a senior nurse. At work, she dealt with unhappy, sick people bringing their problems to her. So her days looked like this: stress at work, and at home—no cosy, loving corner, just a second shift. Serve, collect, wash, tidy. — Any more left? — Tom grabbed another can from the fridge. — Why’s it all gone? — You licked it dry! Am I supposed to buy that too, Tom? Have a bit of conscience! — Antonina finally snapped. — Aren’t we the touchy one… — Tom sneered, then stormed out to ‘restock’ for the next match. Antonina decided to head to bed—another long day tomorrow. But she couldn’t sleep. She worried about her daughter: where was she, who with? It was already dark, and Ellie wasn’t home. She didn’t dare call—her daughter would only yell. — You’re embarrassing me in front of my mates! Stop calling! — Ellie would roar. After one such call, Toni had stopped ringing her, reassuring herself that Ellie was already eighteen. She didn’t want to get a job or go to uni. She’d finished school and announced she was taking a break to ‘find herself’. After finally dozing off, Antonina was woken by her husband’s jubilant shouts—apparently someone had scored—and then heard him loudly analysing the game with the neighbour who’d dropped in and stayed. The neighbour then brought his girlfriend and the three of them started shouting at the TV together. Late at night, Ellie crept in, rattled some plates, and went to bed. When peace finally fell, and Toni managed to fall asleep, the cat shrieked for its supper. — Is there anyone else in this house who can feed the cat besides me?! — she grumbled, headache and sleepless, as she stormed out of the room. She wanted to be heard, but Ellie had her headphones on and just circled her temple with her finger. Tom had crashed in front of the telly, can in hand. ‘I’ve had enough… Absolutely enough of all this!’ — Toni thought. The next morning, her mother-in-law rang. — Antonina, love, don’t forget—it’s time to start sowing the veg patch! And we need to pop up to the village… get things sorted. — I remember, — Toni sighed. — Right then, tomorrow we’re going. Her only day off was spent slogging away in her mother-in-law’s allotment, under strict supervision. — You’re sweeping it all wrong! Hold the broom properly! — barked mother-in-law Vera from her bench. — I’m nearly fifty, Vera, I can manage a broom, — Toni dared to answer. — And Tom… — Where’s your Tom? Why isn’t he here? Didn’t he bring his own mum to the countryside? Why did we have to rattle along for three hours on the bus together? And yet it’s always, Tom this, Tom that… — He gets tired. — And what about me? Don’t I get tired? That’s when everything kicked off. Antonina regretted not biting her tongue. Vera was always one to argue her corner—especially if her corner was the only one that mattered. She always doted on Tom, while she seemed to tolerate Toni like an unpaid servant. The women travelled home at opposite ends of the bus. The next day, Vera rang Tom to complain and he hit the roof. — How dare you talk back to my mum?! — Tom raged. — If it weren’t for her… — What? — Toni crossed her arms. She realised she couldn’t put up with this exploitation anymore. — You’d still be working at the health centre if it weren’t for her! — Tom played his trump card, reminding her it was Vera who helped Toni get the better-paid, but much more stressful, job in the hospital. She had regretted switching many times. — Where are you going? Tom was gobsmacked by what Toni did next—he never imagined she’d actually go through with it!