are things complicated yet?

The first three days

We were discharged 24 hours after Charlotte was born. I couldn't get out of that hospital fast enough. There is nothing like your own bed and your own things. Hospitals kind of suck when you aren't actually sick and are really just tired.

We told Claire that she could sit in the back seat on the way home with Baby Charlotte. (I'm not sure when we'll stop calling her that, for now it seems to be sticking.) But, the way the day worked out she was already at the house with my parents when it was time to leave the hospital, so she didn't get to. I was so eager to start things off on the right note and I was worried that she'd remember and freak out when she didn't get to come home with us. Remarkably, she never mentioned it and it wasn't an issue. (THE ISSUES WERE ALL TO COME - HOOOO BOY.)

Anyway, we got home and my mother (saint that she is) had pink balloons and she and Claire had made a little banner to hang on the mantle that said "Hi Charlotte." (Mom said that if we had picked a shorter name it might have said Welcome but since we didn't all we got was Hi.) She had bought a cake. It was all very festive and a like a little party and it meant so, so much to me.

Claire was very bouncy and excited and asked over and over again if she could "please to hold Baby Charlotte" the moment we walked in the door.

In an effort to make Claire feel like she was the ultimate Big Sister, we got Charlotte out of her car seat and Claire held her very gently and lovingly on the Boppy. (She's calling it "The Roundy Pillow," which makes me laugh). She held her and talked to her and it was cute, oh my God it was so cute. I thought,

"This is one of the very best moments that my life will be made of. They will love each other so much, and WOW I am so proud of Claire for being so mature and so loving with Charlotte. Gosh, reading those Big Sister books totally helped! Is it this simple?"

HA HA, NO IT IS NOT.

The next day Claire woke me up with a very serious request: Baby Charlotte needs her chair. Her chair? The baby doesn't have a chair? Her...car seat? Is that it? No. Claire was starting to get upset. She had asked her Daddy and Grammie to get Baby Charlotte's chair (she neeeeeeds it) and neither of them could figure it out. Suddenly, I remembered: She must be talking about the bouncy seat that is upstairs in Charlotte's closet. Claire had helped me put it together weeks ago and I'm sure I said something about how Baby Charlotte would like to sit in it. So, in an effort to positively reinforce this helpful and kind thing she wanted to do we scampered up there right away, got the bouncy seat and brought it downstairs, all the while heaping praise on Claire for being such a thoughtful big sister and what a good idea it was!

Wasn't that nice of her? What a great kid! I started to think I was kicking ass at this parenting two kids thing, 48 hours in.

The rest of the day went downhill. Claire was misbehaving and acting flat-out wild and crazy. She was jumping on the sofa and not listening in the slightest when we asked her to please STOP jumping on the sofa. (Very unlike her to not respond at all to directions, especially after repeated requests.) She refused to nap and refused to eat anything resembling healthy food (I believe she subsisted on Goldfish and Cheez-its for a few days).

She was devastated when Baby Charlotte could not sleep with her in her Big Girl Bed with her that first night (aww, how cute!), and then threw a 90-minute tantrum about going to bed in the first place (not so cute).

It built and it built and it built over the next three days. While she maintained her loving attitude towards Charlotte she was growing increasingly hostile towards us. On the second night there was a HUGE bedtime fight. A three-hour bedtime fight. She got stories from me, from Daddy and from Grammie. She got hugs and a cover up and a fort and more books and more water and the light on from each of us. There was also yelling and door kicking and jumping on the bed and things that were taken away and there was an unholy amount of crying and screaming. FOR THREE HOURS. There is not enough pain medication in the state of Texas to make that experience tolerable three days after giving birth.

Our (now all too obvious) error was giving her all that attention at bedtime and giving into her demands. In the haze of all the crazy that follows the birth of a sibling, it seemed okay (appropriate even!) to indulge her. Things are bizarre! Let's cut her a little slack! Give her what she wants! What we didn't realize was that we'd just given her three hours of uninterrupted attention for behaving in a way that we DO NOT WANT HER TO BEHAVE, EVER. Shit. How could we be so dumb? We'd just been hornswaggled by someone who can't count past eleven.

The really aggravating part was that we felt like we HAD given her lots of attention and quality time since come home from the hospital. (Obviously, it was still not enough.) We did make an effort to spend a significant amount of time with Claire doing one-on-one activities but we did not shut ourselves in a room, just the two of us, and play without interruption for three hours.  We had just given Claire exactly what she wanted and positively reinforced behavior that is absolutely unacceptable the other 364 days of the year. A three hour bedtime fight? Really? What were we thinking? (We weren't thinking. We were just hoping that it would end soon and then IT NEVER DID.) We opened a bottle of wine and strategized how to spend the next day because there was no way in hell we were going to repeat this awful one.

Outings. Outings were in order. Outings as an incentive to behave. We planned such a grand outing: a visit to a carousel. We watched YouTube videos of carousels and talked about how she would get to pick an animal to ride on and won't it be fun? She was spooled up into a very impressive state of excitement about the carousel by the time we'd run through what YouTube offers on the topic. The only thing she needed to do was get dressed. Simple! Just get dressed! Like we do EVERY DAY.

Uh, no. It took her three hours and a fake we're-walking-out-the-door-without-you move. The whole thing was not about getting dressed and was all about her saying no to anything we asked her to do and the attention that followed (which we tried not to give her). Eventually, she did get dressed and went and enjoyed it, but MY GOD what a struggle it was. A three-hour fight about pants and shoes while jostling and nursing a newborn and wondering when you can take your next pain pill? That sucked. (It sucked even though Chris and my mom were there! She wore ALL OF US out that morning. It was really very impressive.)

And the whole time I was like, Look! I am trying to do something nice for you! I am trying to do something fun and you are RUINING IT! WHY CAN'T WE DO NICE THINGS? Could I have just dropped it and said fine, no carousel today, and moved on? Yes. But, I really felt like she would enjoy it and I also wanted to get her out of the house to do something that might wear her out a bit because naptime loomed in my future as another potentially gigantic fight that I wanted to avoid.

By the third day I was getting a little sleep deprived and I was still in pain. Claire was discovering new buttons to push by the minute and then running her hands along all of them like a kid in an elevator might do.  All of my buttons were being pushed at the same time and I swear, all she had to do was look at me funny and my blood pressure skyrocketed. Everything was a fight. EVERYTHING. We were literally starting a new fight as soon as the last one wrapped up. She was impatient and demanding and rigid -- all normal behavior for a kid her age but not CONSTANTLY.

She turned a cup of water and who was going to get it and what cup it would be in into a fight. A snack and what kind and which bowl and how much. A game. A chair she wanted to sit in. A chair I didn't want her to sit in. Clothes that needed to be put on. Etc, etc etc. It seemed like everything we'd taught her in the past year was suddenly voided. Where did my nice little girl go? This wasn't her. She's not this kind of kid. She's a nice and kind child. Who is this?? I don't know how to deal with this kid! She's totally unfamiliar to me!

It was bad, it was so bad. She told me to go back to the hospital. She told her Grammie that she was not nice and she was not listening and she needed to go to time out. She gave Chris her turtle and told him  the turtle was not being nice and he needed to go to time out.  She was hearing everything we said all right, but it was absolutely not the right way to communicate what we wanted from her. She was dishing it out exactly as she'd heard us give it to her non-stop for the past few days.

But, how were we to know? (If anyone tells me I should have known, I will kick you in the shins.) I was using all of the techniques and lines and punishment methods that HAD worked in the past with her. We were spending (what we thought) was good quality time with her. (And, perhaps no amount of time would have been enough in those first few days.) I thought I knew how to manage my kid. But, it turns out that saying "Claire, you're not following directions. Do you need to go to time out and have a break?" only works the first time and after a hundred times in the same morning it just sounds like Mommy is being mean. Go figure. If I had been able to step outside of the situation and see it unfolding it would have been obvious to see where things were going awry, but that's not a superpower I posses.

***

I knew that the first few days would be difficult, but I was so completely wrong about HOW they would be difficult. I thought my worries and trouble would come from Charlotte; this great unknown entity. Would she sleep? Would she be healthy? Would she eat? There are so many different ways to stress over a newborn. Babies are tough. Everyone knows that! I thought I had Claire figured out, or at least I thought I knew her well enough to know what range of behavior to expect. I was wrong, so very, very wrong.

What turned the attitude in this house around? Time, stickers and an unbelievable amount of praise for everyday good behavior.

She went to my parents' house for a couple of days and received the special kind of undivided attention that only grandparents can give. When she got home I took her to Walmart and she picked out $10 worth of stickers. (It was a very thrilling moment for her.) She earns a sticker for being nice, helping out, following directions, listening, etc. When she has five stickers she can pick a prize from a box of toys. Items in the box include toothbrushes, new cups, puzzles, bubbles, books, a kite, etc. I tried to focus on items that would require an activity upon opening, rather than something passive. So far, books have been the biggest dud since it's not a Super! Fun! Thing! To! Do! right out of the box. (If she is disappointed with her prize, I let her trade and she seems to like that.) The biggest hit has been a pair of Walmart brand toothbrushes with a penguin and a lion on them. Go figure.

All I have to do is mention the idea of earning a sticker and Claire is ON IT. Stickers are very easy to earn in this house and she definitely has the idea down. Did she sit nicely and eat breakfast without losing her shit over what color cup her juice is in? YOU GET A STICKER! Last night she was not behaving in the bath and Chris told her that if she didn't stop she would LOSE A STICKER. Her face was horrified and she said,

"No! I only have to get one more sticker and I get a prize!"

AWWWW YEAAAAAH. Stickers are awesome.

I'm not so stupid to think that the sticker chart will work forever, but it's working for now (in tandem with ridiculous amounts of praise and positive attention) and I'm thrilled that we seem to have cracked some kind of post-sibling good behavior code. We had an amazing day yesterday and Claire was a delight to spend time with. She was funny and sweet and open to suggestions. She made jokes and laughed and helped out. She didn't take a nap, but I didn't ask her to. She was so nice I actually didn't even notice that we skipped nap until naptime was over. She went to bed without any argument whatsoever (that never happens) and woke up at 8 am today, perfectly pleasant.

I got that same brand of kid again today, so we're working on a bit of a streak.

*Sigh.*  Parenthood. It is never boring, that's for sure.

I don't even know where to start, so maybe we'll just start with today.

Charlotte is almost two weeks old (adorably) and Claire is still two-and-three-quarters (somewhat regrettably).

Claire was, er, hmm. How do I put this nicely so she doesn't apply for emancipation when she's a teenager?  Claire was very difficult the first few days we were home from the hospital and she went on "vacation" to Grammie and Colonel's house for 5 days last week. She came home yesterday and she missed us and we missed her, oh yes we did, but the break was nice for everyone. I'm not sure if it reset expectations or if she simply needed massive amounts of attention and time to get used to her new reality, but we had a very pleasant day today, just the three of us, and I was so happy for that. One nice day makes up for a lot of unpleasant ones.

***

I took both of them to Walmart this morning and it was fine, really it was, except for the part where the carts are not frakking big enough to put an infant carrier AND groceries in it. Really, am I missing something strategic about grocery shopping with the child and the baby so that I end up taking actual food home with me? We get one of those carts where Claire can ride on the end close to me in a little seating area. She can hop in and out at will and she's very well behaved about the whole thing.

But then what to do with Charlotte? I'm not quite good enough with the Moby Wrap to venture out in public and yet...I can't think of any other solution than dropping the carseat into the cart. (And you'd better believe I'm not putting on TOP of the cart over the kiddie seat. The tippy-crash nightmares I have about that setup are chilling.)

So, basically what I am telling you is that I spent TWO HOURS getting everyone fed and dressed in a coordinated manner this morning so that we could all go to Walmart and buy not enough food for even a week because it wouldn't fit in the stupid cart. This is not something I am interested in repeating, so I am really hoping someone will tell me what I did wrong.

***

The tumor-type-thing on Jake's leg is already growing back. I can see it from a few feet away, wobbling around on his thigh. It's maybe the size of a walnut, which isn't all that big but considering it was mostly gone less than two months ago, that seems like rather rapid growth to me. I had finally kind of forgotten about that whole incident and let myself passively believe that he'll live another five years and then...yeah. We'll watch it and see how he responds.

***

And....yes. That might be all the interesting content I can come up with tonight. Here! Look at some pictures!

We interrupt this birth story to bring you a stunning comparison photo

Charlotte is on the left. Claire is on the right. It appears I have given birth to the same child twice. I knew that they looked alike, a lot alike actually, but MY OH MY does this paint the picture. What a gorgeous pair they'll be. (I'm the mom. I'm allowed to make bold statements like that.)

(Click to embiggen and gape at their similarities in more detail.)

Does anyone still have a landline? That's all I really want to know today. You can skip over the part about the sheets in this one.

Is this a new tradition? Posting every day while on maternity leave? This is very unlike me. I mean, I did go to Texas A&M and if there's one thing Aggies are positively enamored with it's creating and maintaining traditions. But...no, I think I am just having a lot of time on my hands and I am reluctant to start any project that takes more than a half hour mostly because that means I'll probably have to stand up and reach or bend over for more than a half hour and HA HA HA that is so not happening when I have this slick Ikea POANG chair in my husband's office to sit in and make occasional requests for water and cookies. (That he happily fulfills with nary a sigh or eyeroll, gosh, I LOVE HIM.)

Here's what did happen today:

1. I made Claire's bed. Really, I changed the sheets and then instead of haphazardly putting the covers back on I actually made the bed like a real grown up. (This picture is tiny because I am using the crap code from TwitPic but I'm too lazy to email it to myself and upload it so just click on it if you want to see it bigger.)

I will let you in on a secret: I have changed the sheets on Claire's big girl bed exactly three times since January. I know, you are grossed out, but LISTEN TO ME. She has a bath every night. We are Bath Every Night parents. She goes to bed clean (right after her bath) and she is dry all night and she's not eating leftover birthday cake in there or anything and...the sheets seem super clean to me and they even smell like freshly washed kid most of the time, which is rather nice. So, now you know how lazy I am. I never make her bed and I hardly ever change the sheets. (But, I would like note that I did change her sheets one day before my due date which I think earns me some sort of extra credit because that shit was HARD.)

It's the Land of Nod Circles Quilt and we've had it since January and really, I love it. I couldn't be happier with how it looks and how it's wearing and the weight is nice as well.  It cost too much but it was a gift and that's the way I recommend everyone try to obtain this quilt if it's on your Want List. One day I'm going to put some art on the walls but it will probably be after she stops throwing temper tantrums at bedtime, which will be when she's what...13? SIGH.

2. I went to visit my midwife and I'm 2.5 cm (no change from last week) and I have a very active baby and very normal blood pressure and you can still see my ankle bones (but you have to squint a bit). My midwife is wholly unconcerned that I have not delivered yet and she sent me on my merry way with a request for an NST Monday just to start keeping closer tabs. She never once mentioned the word induction.

3. I had a handful of contractions where I needed to stop what I was doing and go WHOA THAT HURT but only a handful and not close together and I'm pretty sure I'll be pregnant forever.

4. Claire fake-called her grandparents on a cordless telephone that is leftover from the days when we had a landline. I am not sure why we still have this phone, but Claire has adopted it and we have let her. I'd be curious to know who still has a landline and who doesn't. We haven't missed it at all.

5. My friend Julie came to visit us with her 6-month-old daughter and Claire was positively SMITTEN with her. She kissed her and held her hand and when we put the baby in her lap so Claire could show her the mini-Coleman lantern she got in her stocking last Christmas? I thought Claire was going to demand we keep this baby forever.  Good news Claire! WE WILL HAVE ONE OF OUR OWN SOON! (I hope we will have one soon. We better have one soon.)

6. Claire did not take a nap because she was too busy with the visiting baby.

7. As soon as the visiting baby left, I went to my midwife appointment and left Chris with a Crazy No Napped Toddler.

8. Then I came home, said hello and went to dinner with another friend while he bathed her and put her to bed (unwillingly, as she was overtired).

9. Basically, my husband kicks serious ass today as he saw all of Claire's worst sides while I just had fun.

10. All day long I read your comments on my last post and they made me so happy. Thank you for being so supportive and awesome. I have the best readers and friends inside the computer ever, ever, ever. I want to have coffee with all of you.

This time around, a few things will be different

I keep having moments where I think,

"This is going to be tough, so physically DIFFICULT to care for two small people at the same time. How? How am I going to do this?"

I try to remember that I won't feel like this, won't move (er, not move?) like this and won't be off balance like this in just a few short weeks (days?). I won't be agile like a teenage high jumper but I will not be nine months pregnant. I think we can agree that these two things (teenage high jumper/9 months pregnant 32-year-old) are pretty much the complete opposite of each other in terms of simple physical ability to, say, get out of a car unassisted.

I'm not too worried about the days and weeks ahead because I do know how to take care of a newborn (the basic tasks are relatively simple in terms of complexity) and even if this newborn is high needs then I think I know how to deal with that too (Twitter, wine). I have a reasonable expectation of what is normal. We have people to support us and give us the breaks and time and help that we need. It is a huge comfort to know that no matter what flavor of baby we get, everything will be FINE.

And yet. I do feel twinges of anxiety about New Baby, partly because Claire as a newborn never made me feel stressed out in any kind of extreme way and I think we've likely used up all of our Good Baby karma. What are the chances we'll get lucky again? She always went back to sleep fairly easily once her middle-of-the-night problem had been solved and I can remember fewer than five times when she was truly inconsolable. I actually LIKED Claire as a newborn quite a bit. I mean, obviously I did not sleep a lot and I wore semi-clean clothes to work sometimes (okay, lots of times) but to me those were normal life changes that I expected. The baby on her own? She was great.

From what I can tell after many years of reading the internet, it's a bit rare to have a decently sleeping child from the start and I have a great deal of sympathy for parents of infants that refuse to sleep. I can imagine no torture worse than a crying, inconsolable child for months and months at a time PLUS all of the other changes/sacrifices that are made. It was 7 months before Claire slept through the night and I thought I was going to die at that point and she was really a very good sleeper anyway. Parents of children with sleep issues? HEROES.

I mean, I get it, and how it must be soul-sucking in a completely defeating way. But I can't possibly understand it since it's not something I personally experienced. I simply have no war story on the topic.

I am curious if that's about to change.

...

Sometimes I wonder if I sugarcoated Claire's first year, both at the time and in my recollection, because she was so desperately wanted and we tried so hard and spent so much money and tears and time to have her in the first place. I wonder if I was so grateful that she existed at all, that I diminished the value of any personal sacrifice I made. Even though Claire didn't have colic or reflux or sleeping issues, she was still an infant that was awake all the time and hard to figure out and she pushed me to my limits quite frequently. (Because, you know, that's what infants DO.)

Baby won't sleep tonight and is having a dance party at 3 am when I have an 8 am conference call to present at? We asked for this! This is what we wanted! And I ate it all up, really I did, in the name of We Will Only Get To Do This Once. I never let myself even creep close to any legitimate feelings of "this baby thing kind of sucks, when does the toddler part begin?" I think I elevated the entire experience and even the most mundane, tiring and repetitive of activities to a high, high pedestal. I talked myself into thinking that even when something was bad, it wasn't THAT bad because, after all, we have a baby. In the back of my mind, there was always a quiet voice whispering that whatever infant indignity we were experiencing, it was better than not having a baby at all.

(It was an exhausting mentality to maintain.)

I wasn't sure if we'd have another baby, if we'd get lucky a second time or if our life circumstances would even financially allow it, so I was obsessed with making sure that even if I was sleep deprived and I did have to go to work in a few hours, that I enjoyed that 1, 3, 5 and 7 am wake up to the fullest. I think it made me kind of delusional actually, because I literally didn't think about anything but Claire for months and month and months. I put a lot of important things on hold and used her as my excuse. I literally felt that I did not have time to work out because that hour was better spent with her. A measly little hour was something I thought I did not deserve or even want in the first place.

I remember when I first met Jennie I was stunned to learn that she went to the movies sometimes. By herself! Because she just really liked the movies and she wanted to go so she...went! WHAT A CONCEPT. It was a game-changing moment for me. (Since then, I have learned that if there is a single truth about Jennie it is that once she decides to do something, THE GIRL GOES AND DOES IT.) Why couldn't I go to the movies? Why couldn't I take a few hours to veg out with my own thoughts? It literally (sadly) had never really occurred to me.

I had convinced myself that not only did I not NEED time, I didn't actually WANT it and, of course, neither of those were true. I had a sleeptastic baby and a pretty good outlook on life and I still managed to lose some sense of self that first year without even realizing it was happening.

I think what I am getting at (in a very roundabout way) is the actual taking care of a newborn isn't something that I'm worrying over too much, mostly because I know that I can't change anything. New Baby will be who New Baby is, end of story. Her needs are not something I can control: they are simply something I need to respond to. These days I am far more likely to feel creeping anxiety about what will happen to ME. (The kids? The kids will be fiiiiiine.)

Having been given a second chance at smelling the delicious head of a newborn anytime I want (which is THE BEST PART about babies), this time I am going to try in a very obvious and clear way to respond to MY needs as well. I didn't end up traumatized because I never took myself out for a latte, but I remember feeling stressed and pulled apart and panicky about way time just seemed to keep rapidly going by month after month after month and it was all because at some point I never stopped to take a freaking BREAK for myself. If you don't stop and make checkpoints, time has this odd tendency to just start running together. (And no, working outside the home doesn't count as alone time.) I'm worried that maybe this sounds like maybe Chris never gave me any time to myself but that's entirely untrue. He encouraged me and pushed me out of the house many times only to hear me say that I didn't WANT to go anywhere alone or do anything by myself and here are some other excuses and a pouty face and I want to stay here and wash clothes and spend TIME with you and the baby. (Again with the We Only Get To Do This Once.) (And what does a smart guy do when his wife gets ANGRY about being told to go paint her nails? He acquiesces, that's what.)  The clarity of hindsight tells me that everyone would have been better off if I had just gone to get my toenails painted or taken the time to run more often.

So, the one thing I want to make sure I do differently this time? Make sure that I do a collection of things that are best for everyone and not just things that are tangibly and obviously good for Claire and New Baby. And, believe me, I know myself and I know how DIFFICULT this is going to be for me, particularly with the older one and her specific, frequent demands.

I need time by myself to run, to stretch, to think, to write, to create, to do something other than be a caregiver, even if it's only for an hour. This is so "no shit" but believe me, it doesn't feel that way with short people leaning on you for everything. The only reason I am putting this in print is so that in 5 weeks I can read it and remember that I deserve and actually want that time alone even it means leaving someone screamy (but well taken care of) back at the house for a little while.

She is my sunshine, my only sunshine

Claire is independent and talkative and opinionated. She can tell us what she wants and most of the time she can get it herself but only if she actually WANTS to get it herself. Wanting an object and wanting to lay hands on it herself are two entirely different things. This feels exactly like what I imagine having servants that ignore you would be like.

"You'd like some water? Okay. Can you go get your cup? Claire? Your cup. CUP. CLAIRE. IT'S OVER THERE. Yes, I know you want some water. You need your cup to have some water. No, not that cup. Not a new cup. You already HAVE a cup. Ohmygod, never mind I will get your cup."

She can get in her car seat and buckle the top buckle (never on request, never when we have somewhere to be, but she CAN physically do it). She can pick what she wants for breakfast and maybe half the time she ends up actually eating what she requests. All the other times, she asks for something ridiculous for breakfast, like popcorn or jelly beans, and when I tell her that those aren't breakfast foods she wakes the dead with her cries of protest.

She can tell the dog to get out of the kitchen while she is eating. She tells him to get out of the kitchen even when she's not eating and I think it's partly because the dog is the only living entity she can boss around without much reprimand. (Admittedly, he is often misbehaving and needs reprimanding.)

She can spy bunny rabbits in the back yard. (We have two random ones that have taken up residence, which is beyond adorable to me.) She loves to organize, sort, categorize, line up and stack. She can recall things that we've done in the past and look forward to things in the future and will spontaneously, without prompting, bring them up and tell other people about them. 

"We have a hummingbird feeder!"

"I saw a bunny in our yard!"

"I'm out of school for the summer!"

"I going to Chick-fil-A!"

She picks out library books all by herself and will sit for 20 minutes at home paging through them, inspecting them and, I presume, evaluating them for future bedtime requests. She tells her Daddy to "be gentle with my boo-boo" in the bath tub. She is a helper. She can bring me my water or a Kleenex or my phone from downstairs (particularly helpful at 9 months pregnant).  She will watch Sesame Street and NBC Nightly News with Brian Williams, and that's about it on TV.  Nothing else has captured her attention and believe me, I HAVE TRIED.  (What I wouldn't give for a kid that I could buy thirty easy minutes from by simply turning on PBS.) YouTube though? Oh, girlfriend LOVES YouTube, which sounds like it might serve the same purpose (mindless child entertainment) but it actually requires a great deal of supervision and effort on my part to keep the Wholesome Kid YouTube train going and not venture into Weirdly Inappropriate YouTube territory.

She knows how to use an iPad and an iPhone and she gets very frustrated at my MacBook because it has no touch screen and "MOMMY, IT NO WORK!"  She is a true child of 2011.

She can put her dirty clothes in the laundry basket (again, hardly ever upon request, but she KNOWS where they go and she has put them there a handful of times). She can express what she'd like to wear today. (Orange shorts or pink? Pink, natch.) She enjoys talking to her grandparents and uncles on the telephone, although she's constantly trying to SHOW them something on the phone and has a hard time understanding that it's audio only. (Again, my precious, modern child of 2011.) We have yet to introduce her to Skype, but I suspect it will be a very big hit.

When we drive by Chick-fil-A she says, "There's the french fry store!"  She knows all of the words to Freight Train, Chicka Chicka, Baby Bear and a handful of other books that she can "read" to herself in bed at night. Listening to her run through the box cars, cattle cars and Black! Steam! Engine! on the monitor is one of those things I wish I could bottle up and visit over and over again later on when I'm old.

She sings constantly. Old Macdonald, 5 little ducks, Where is Thumbkin, Icky Sticky Bubble Gum and a song in spanish she learned at school that involves the words "Buenos Dias, Muy Bien." She can ride in the open carts at Walmart and help me shop. It is her job to throw something in the cart once I give it to her and she takes this job very seriously. She has a bicycle helmet but no bicycle. She can put on her shoes as long as they fasten with velcro, but she always puts them on the wrong feet. Her feet haven't grown significantly since last summer and her pink Converse are ratty and falling apart and while I know that she is THAT KID with awful looking shoes, I'm not buying her any more until her little feet actually don't fit in them.

She loves making rainbows with water and food coloring and I used to supervise her every movement but now I just let her stand at the sink and mix a hundred varieties of colors that all turn out brown in the end while I chop vegetables and make dinner right behind her on the island.

She's clever. She can move her chairs and various stools different places so she can reach things. She helps me load the dishwasher by pouring in the soap and closing the door and pushing the buttons. It's super helpful these days because that's one less thing I have to bend over to accomplish.

She tells me that she will hold baby ____ "like this" and she makes a tiny gesture of holding a baby in the cradle of her arms that she rocks back and forth.  She shows me where baby _____will sleep and she talks about how she will hold her gently and keep her warm and cozy.

She is kind and compassionate and thoughtful. She is loving and freely throws her arms around us and gives us kisses and says I love you. She shares her bagel, her water, her crackers, her cheese but not her toys. (Consumables only, I guess). There is nothing she would rather do than whatever it is you are doing right that second. She enjoys mopping and she has her own spray bottle with water that she uses daily to "clean" just about anything I'll let her. (Cabinets and floor only, not the walls.)

She enjoys getting the mail, picking up packages from the front door and ringing doorbells. I bought her a cherry Chapstick at Walmart this week and she hasn't parted with it. She SLEEPS with it and applies it often and I'm shocked that she's not flat out eating it, but she's not, truly, I've checked several times.

In some ways, she's still so young. A tantrum if you open her cereal bar the incorrect way. She tears up at the mention of bedtime in a book (even if it's noon).

She's never had a haircut and my God, why would I do such a thing? Her curls are gorgeous and a genetic element I didn't know one of us had to pass on. She chooses clips and bows each morning and waits patiently while I do her hair. Sometimes, she requests a ponytail and gosh darnit, there's nothing like a ponytail on that girl to age her 6 years in a moment.

She is easier to discipline now than she was 6 months ago, I think because her grasp of cause and effect is so much more clear. "If you don't stop X, I will take away Y" is remarkably effective. She stays in her room all night and goes to bed between 6 and 9 and wakes up about 10-12 hours later. This predictable part of our lives is gratifying beyond description.  Knowing that everyone will sleep tonight is a lovely bit of knowledge to carry all day long. Sometimes she naps and sometimes not but on the days when she doesn't, she's rarely a hellion, she's just a bit crankier come 4p and that's manageable with some strategic snacks and activities. This is a completely different story than 6 weeks ago, when no nap meant that a Crazy Person would be on the loose.

...

Life isn't a carpet of butterflies every day, but two-year-olds are a special brand of awesome that I wasn't prepared for. (I'll try to remember that at 3 am in upcoming weeks.)

7 quick takes about nothing in particular but that all seem to end up being about New Baby anyway

1. I am only working for three days this week. Starting on Thursday I'll be on maternity leave. This fills me with a great deal of joy (WOOOOOO NO WORKING FOR A LONG TIME) and a great deal of panic (OMG THE BABY IS GOING TO BE HERE SOON MUST SLEEP WHILE WE CAN).

2. Claire is only going to school for three days this week as well and the reason we're not going to send her while I am on leave is complicated and involves me getting angry at someone and perhaps I'll tell the story to you later, but for now the simple reality is that I'll be a 9-months-pregnant and on maternity leave SAHM in about 72 hours.

3. Holy crap, what in the hell are we going to do all day? Especially if New Baby is late and I end up pregnant for 4 more weeks? (AUGHHHH PLEASE NO, NOT AGAIN.) I mean, normally I would be so excited about not working and playing around all day long but I am trying to keep my activity to a minimum and Claire is, um, not really on board with that idea. We have a lot of lunch dates planned and the neighborhood pool opens this week but I have to wonder, does anyone care to see a 38-weeks pregnant woman at the pool?  Probably no.

4. Did you know that once you get to be 37-38 weeks pregnant that your maternity shirts that used to fit?  Haaa, they don't fit any more. Is very insulting.

5. Today my parents were in town and I was showing them New Baby's room and my dad asked Claire who was going to be sleeping in this room.  Claire, ever the show-off, obliged him with "Baby (Her Actual Name) will sleep here!" My parents got kind of wide-eyed and I laughed and didn't say anything to confirm or deny the name she spouted off (but it was her actual, real, going-on-the-birth-certificate name).  We just sort of laughed about it and acted like it never happened.  Later on, my Mom said something about baby Michelle. Nope, her name's not Michelle. Not even close. Thank goodness for the garbled English of a two-year-old.

6. Things I still need to do, that will probably not get done: See optometrist and dentist. Get haircut.

7. The other day an Annoying Daycare Mom that I haaaaaate for a lot of reasons (primary one being that she parks her car in the handicapped spot EVERY DAY even though there are TONS of empty places elsewhere) saw me walking in and said, "Oh! You're going to be delivering soon, aren't you!?" First of all, who says "delivering"?? It's a little too exact on the events that will eventually transpire, don't you think? Particularly for casual conversation? And second of all, if you don't know a pregnant lady it's just not wise to comment on her obvious pregnant-ness. You just DON'T. I told her, "Nope. Not really very soon at all actually." She just said "Oh."  I don't think she felt badly or anything, because she's really just that disconnected from reality which drove me up the wall even more.

Sunshine makes everyone happier

We got out the water table today, which I think signals the official start of summer around here.  I know that it's technically still winter, and spring doesn't even start until, I don't know, next week? But, summer is a horrible time to be outside around here, so we try to squeeze our summer activities into the early days of spring when it's 75 degrees and breezy and repeated pleas to go play in the sunshine aren't met with an eye-roll or strategic redirection, but are instead given an enthusiastic,

"YES! YES WE CAN GO OUTSIDE!"

We spent the whole damn day out there in the hammock, watching our little girl tirelessly empty ten million cupfuls of water onto the patio.

It sure does seem like it was a long winter. I'm glad it's over. We're all glad.

The Acid In My Throat Months

This has been a really difficult pregnancy for me, mostly because I feel like every day has been a mighty and dramatic struggle. If my day isn't a physical struggle, it is an emotional struggle and sometimes it is both on the same day, which adds up to a really shitty day (not just for me, but for everyone in my family) if I'm being honest.

That's so whiney and horrible of me to say because there are people out there who have ACTUALLY difficult or dangerous pregnancies and I am not comparing degrees of awful or traumatic here, I am just saying that personally, I AM MISERABLE AND I AM TIRED OF FEELING THIS WAY while also acknowledging that yes, I know it could be worse and I am thankful it is not but that doesn't make the acid in my throat burn any less.

I can count on two hands the number of truly GOOD days I've had this pregnancy. Let's be brutally honest: ten days out of 7 months is not very fun. In fact, if a non pregnant person only had ten good days in seven months, a doctor might be inclined to say that person was depressed or gravely ill.  But me? NOPE. JUST PREGNANT.

It's equally infuriating for Chris since I complain, complain, complain and he can't do a damn thing about it. He asks me, all the time, if there's something I need or want or that he can do (and he's very sincere and concerned and very much wants to help me out). Sometimes he can help ("Will you pick up that item on the floor over there?") and then he does, gladly.  But, because I'm very grumpy, half the time I say that the only solution is to give birth and he can't do anything and I will just have to be miserable until it's time to be sleep deprived and fat and smushy post-partum, thankyouverymuch. (Lately, I think I am not easy to be married to.)

On the other hand, my midwife says that I'm having a healthy pregnancy with no complications or distress to myself or our daughter so, on paper, I am having a "good" pregnancy. This strikes me as a rather bad Good Pregnancy, but whatever.

I have been waiting to feel better since September. I've been waiting to feel less tired, less snippy and less heartburn-y. I've been waiting to feel glowy and energetic and peppy. I've been waiting to feel as good as I did when I was pregnant with Claire. Those days have simply not shown up this time around. I'm starting to accept that this second pregnancy is never going to be anything close to my first in terms of comfort. I will not have glowy-smiley days this time around.

The stretch marks are getting worse, and by that I mean they freaking HURT, and I find myself out of breath simply standing at the sink in the morning to brush my teeth. When she kicks my stomach, the acid within roils up into my esophagus.  She sleeps most of the day while I'm at work but I swear she knows when I leave my desk and it's like her burst of energy is directly leeched off of mine.  By 4pm I am a mess, even though all I've done is sit in a chair and write email. HARDLY physically taxing. I have a headache, heartburn, round ligament pain and frequent but irregular contractions through the evening when I am my most active...It's all so different this time.

It's not the worst pregnancy ever, in the history of pregnancies, but of the two I've had? It is the worst. It's not what I was expecting.

***

We are having a difficult time with Claire this week. It is typical toddler behavior: the testing of limits and manipulation thereof. What is so defeating is that it comes at bedtime, at the end of this day where I am already so tired and so done and so wanting to go to bed at 8 pm myself but instead I am fighting a 30 pound child in the dark on a topic that we are both too tired to listen to reason on. Sometimes, Chris has the fight with her and we take turns and while this sounds like a very just and equitable parenting scenario, it's not. We have discovered is that it's exhausting no matter who is the discipline enforcer du jour because EVERYONE HAS TO LISTEN TO IT FOR THREE HOURS EVERY NIGHT.

(It's a phase, it's a phase, it's a phase. Please God, it has to be a phase.)

After our three-hour battle of wills, she's up at 6 am every day, sometimes earlier but never later, and it makes me think that I am not taking advantage of sleeping right now. I am not properly enjoying it or savoring it or appreciating it.  Perhaps it's stupid to think that I deserve to sleep or to even WANT to sleep because these are the years of my life where I Will Hardly Ever Sleep, so why bother fighting it or getting annoyed? It's just reality.

***
These early years with children can be unpleasant sometimes. They are, unquestionably, physically demanding. But they are also short-lived. Just when I think I can't handle something any more, something changes and she grows up a little bit and it's all okay again. I try to smile and enjoy every precious and shining moment, but damn, can it be tough when I'm telling a two-year-old to GET BACK IN BED for the 45th time that night. 

I know that the years where I sleep a lot and my children are self sufficient enough to get their own Cheerios and juice in the morning are ahead of me. One day, I will sleep in and this stage where she wakes me with a smile at first light will be over and I won't even realize that it's over until it's already happened. And I think I am maybe supposed to feel weepy and sad about that, but I don't. It's just life, you know?

The truth is that I think this gig is just plain old tough, from the very start where you pee on a stick and welcome 40 weeks of heartburn into your life, to a day far off in the future where you plan to release these children, that you hope you raised properly, into the wild as Financially Independent Adults. I don't think it gets easier, it just gets different. In between now and then, it's just a long string of Getting By With What You've Got and Whatever Works.

These days, my reality is that I'm getting by with a bunch of stomach acid in my throat.

I think it says something about me that I'm so hung up on a single photograph (says I'm crazy-obsessive about pictures, that's what)

The outfit I wore home from the hospital is a Baby Dior silk creation of ivory and pink that my grandmother bought in 1979 on her way to see me in California. I was the first grandchild and a girl and, well, if that wasn't enough all on its own (it is) I was and still am very special to my grandmother. She's also the kind of lady who thinks Baby Dior is perfectly appropriate for a person's first outing. (Don't you?) Nobody rolls their eyes when you mention the Baby Dior in my family. We just nod our heads like yes, of course, all little girl babies come home in wee designer gowns, don't they?

When we found out that Claire was a girl, the Baby Dior came up and I was asked if I would like to have it for MY baby girl's first outfit. Of course I did!  What kind of pregnant lady says no to Baby Dior?

My grandmother gave me the outfit and I hung it in the Claire's closet. Sadly, that's as far as my enthusiasm for the Baby Dior went. I never got around to washing it (seemed appropriate since it had been almost 30 years) and it wasn't important enough when we were packing things up the night before I was induced.  I know you are shocked, but "hand wash and hang dry the Baby Dior" did not make the list of last-minute things we did that evening. I didn't bring the vintage designer gown and bonnet to the hospital.

After she was born the Baby Dior was, quite literally, the furthest thing from my mind. I mean, I liked it and I wanted to dress her in it but it just seemed so trivial at that point. I didn't care if she came home in only a diaper, just as long as we all went home and they sent me with prescription pain relief. 

Obviously, this meant that the Baby Dior was one of the first things my mother brought up post-delivery. Not in a pointed, accusing way but in an "ohhhh! BABY DIOR TIME!" kind of way. (Newborns aren't good for many interactive activities, but playing dress-up with them is actually quite satisfying.) Over my protests of "oh, don't WORRY about it!" she insisted on delivering the Baby Dior to us before we were discharged. She hand washed and hung it to dry in my hospital room and all the while I kept thinking this was WAY too much work for an outfit that we could just dress her in later.  It might not be her first outfit, like it was mine, but that was a teensy detail that could be overlooked since I was high on vicodin and hormones. (One does not really think about preshus memories and sentimental traditions post-delivery. You just don't.)

Even after all of that effort, when it was time to go home it seemed silly to put the happy, 2-day-old baby in a new outfit (you do not mess with a happy baby) for the express purpose of simply exiting the building. But, I insisted, over the raised eyebrow of my husband. It turned out that the Baby Dior was far too big on my seven pound baby. She was swimming in silk. (Awkward, but not a bad way to start out in life.)  We also realized that it was going to be rather weird putting a baby in a gown in the carseat. Should we crumple the gown under the buckle? Then it would get all messed up and there'd be a foot of gown to cram somewhere underneath her. That didn't look like a good idea. The bonnet was particularly troublesome. It was enormous on her tiny head, slipped over her eyes, served no functional purpose whatsoever and the pink ribbons practically screamed STRANGULATION IMMINENT, ALERT ALERT ALERT.

Huh. We looked at each other in the hospital room, all alone for what seemed like the first time in days, and realized that neither of us had ever put a person in a carseat before, much less a person in a silk gown and bonnet, or a person this TINY and BREAKABLE. This was more complicated than we cared to mess with. Even though the picture I was after required her to be IN THE OUTFIT when we arrived home, we quickly snapped a few photos of Claire on the hospital bed (the blue blanket was not, ahem, the nicest of backgrounds), called it a completed task and then put her in a simple onesie for the drive home.

She never wore the outfit again, not even when she got a bit plumper and it might have fit better, because it's kind of a fussy and impractical getup, even though it's lovely.

It's such a small, silly thing to want to cram into an already busy first few weeks of life, but I'd really like to make sure I get a good picture of our second daughter in the Baby Dior. I don't even feel overly sentimental about it, but it seems like a Nice Thing To Do that I might look back on and smile at when I'm an old lady. Perhaps my girls will want to use it if they have girls of their own one day, making it a third generation outfit at that point. (Wait, that idea does make me a bit sentimental and weepy.)

Do you have any family tradition or heirloom things like this, that you wish you'd done (or, if you're more on the ball, DID) with your kids? Or, things that you know you want to do with children/babies, that are still ahead of you?