I can't believe we are a month away from having two little boys in our home. My mom hosted a small open house to celebrate Braden joining us and Connor being promoted to big brother. It was mostly an excuse to get some old (and new!) wonderful friends together to eat good food, drink good wine, and oogle over how cute Connor is and how big my belly is getting. It was a good time. My parents know how to throw a great party! We were even lucky enough to be joined by my Nana all the way from Arizona and Dave's mom (fresh off her flight from Salt Lake City).
Swapping stories with all the moms and laughing about feeling old with my girlfriends from childhood was wonderful. It helped me remember how different every birth is and every child. When I was pregnant with Connor I hoped to avoid every intervention except an epidural (I'm not that crazy), and as soon as my preeclampsia surfaced, that all got thrown out the window. I thought I would walk the halls, do the weird pregnancy positions you read about in books, sit in the big soaker tub...instead I laid in a hospital bed for 22 hours hooked up to countless drips and monitors. Fun.
Then once our healthy little boy was born I had even more expectations. I thought we'd be dedicated to sleep training Connor so he'd safely and independently fall asleep easily. Instead I got a baby who wouldn't take a binkie, and couldn't suck his fingers because if his hands were ever free he'd shred his skin with his talon-like fingernails because of his itchy eczema. So he screamed himself to sleep for months. Lovely. I thought I'd feed him all sorts of great home made meals and lots of fruits and veggies. Instead I got the pickiest eater ever who even refuses french fries when offered...so we feed him what he'll eat since he's also the skinniest baby ever. He knows what a Cheeto bag looks like and will request it if he sees it...not my proudest parenting moment. I thought I'd be patient, and calm with him even when he's screaming, and that I'd still be able to run and keep my house up to my very high standards. If you're a mom you know what a huge joke that last sentence is.
20 months later I have a toddler who asks for his milk and starts heading up to his own bedroom at 7pm every night and doesn't wake until 8am. I have a toddler who still refuses french fries sometimes, but I've started to figure out how to keep my house clean again...and he even tries to help! I'm still not as patient and calm as I'd like to be, but I'm working on it.
Now we get to throw a whole new variable into the mix just as the dust was starting to settle. I'm trying to have less expectations than last time. I'm also trying to constantly remind myself that this child is completely unique from Connor and to expect that none of the tricks that worked on Connor will work on Braden. I'm excited and terrified all at the same time. I wonder how I'll deal with the guilt of having to divide my time between two. I wonder how we'll make even the simplest tasks work when I'm outnumbered and Dave goes back to work from his paternity leave. I expect after a year we'll finally feel like we've got it figured out again, just in time to start talking about number 3. We're crazy.
For now though, I'm just soaking up this sweet time with Connor; the last days where I get to completely spoil him as an only child. We're also getting some awesome time in with Grandma (Dave's mom), who is out from MI visiting for two weeks. Although Connor has been extra clingy with me lately, he's quickly warming up to her and they're having a blast!
31 days people! Can you believe it?