Three. It's the magic number

As many of you know, as I have made it painfully clear, Brad and I don't want kids.
It's just a choice we made.
We weren't always like this. Originally, we each had our own ideas about how many children would be the ideal number. Brad wanted three. He was the youngest of two and hated it. I on the other hand was the oldest of three and wanted two.
Go figure.
But as time went on and things began to change, so did our ideas of what the ideal number would be. And eventually, we decided that we would have one. And we would try really, really hard not to spoil it.
And that was the plan for a little while. But we agreed that it would be a few years before we had the kid. I think at the time I was 25.
And then my sister moved into my neighborhood. She brought my four-year old nephew with her (obviously) and on nights when she worked late, I would watch him. (For the record, my BIL was active duty overseas at the time)
 Now, I've had my fair share of kid time. But that? I was not prepared. OK, actually, I wasn't prepared for the spongebob. And the requests for drinks. And the 'wiping of the booty.' I just wasn't. And Brad? He wasn't having it. At. All.
As in, he went to the bedroom and didn't help. And that scared me. And it got me thinking.
What if we didn't have kids? Would that be so wrong? Instead of saving up for college and getting a second mortgage on the house to pay for diapers, we could go on vacations. Or have nicer cars. Or a bigger [but empty] house.
And eventually, I mentioned these thoughts to Brad.
And he threatened to divorce me.
Seriously.
Well, it was more like, 'Don't you think this is something you should have mentioned before we got married. To which I tried to explain I had changed my mind.
Luckily for me, it was around that time his mom moved in with us. And we thought we would 'test' the whole kid thing with dogs. And then my nephew was around.
Needless to say, he came around to my way of thinking very quickly.
We like just being two. (well, four if you count the pups.)
My sister got a regular job and my babysitting duties were over. But his mom lived with us for three years. And if you've been around my blog for more than five minutes, you know that was difficult.
I say all of that to say this: I moved my sister into my house yesterday. I didn't want to. But I had to.
It was a difficult decision that I made in about 2.4 seconds.
She's been staying with my MIL. In my head, it was going to be the perfect arrangement. They would be able to help each other. Kacie needs help managing her money and transportation. Cathy needs someone to help with things like taking out the garbage and grocery shopping.
In my head, Kacie would do the things Cathy needed help with and Cathy would take Kacie places.
In my head it was a beautiful relationship.
In reality, it was not.
Those two are the most selfish people I have ever met.
And I've met a lot of people.
Regardless, Kacie is now living with me. And it's not something I ever wanted. But, I'm going to deal with it. I've made progress on her situation, but it's a long drawn out thing that I'll write about later.
So, for now, it's back to three under my roof.
And if the last time I opened my doors is any indication to what this will be like, be prepared, you're not going to like my blog. I set my whine-o-meter to stun.