What's that? You're still trying to read this blog? But it's been so long. Oh, where do I start? Much has changed since my last post from October 2011. We have a fantastic new family member, and are all adjusting accordingly. "Little D" was born on December 28 via induction followed by a relatively easy and quick labor and delivery. Like his brother, he seemed to just want to stay in there, all warm and cozy. By the time we were attending all the usual Christmas events, during which I probably looked like an ornament with limbs in my one nice maternity blouse*, I was ready to be done with being pregnant and asked my doctor to bust out the Pitocin.
The first few weeks at home, I will admit, were a little tough. E was pretty good overall, but there were certainly days when he got tired of watching me feed the baby, watching his dad change the baby, and otherwise found it boring just watching the baby sleep. There were a few touch and go moments in the first week alone, one in particular I'll never forget. I was still in that post-delivery, slow-moving phase where I was barely supposed to climb stairs, let alone carry a toddler up with me. E wanted some attention, but I had to take D upstairs to change him. E frowned and began to cry, "no, put that baby
down, carry E___!" Tears literally shot out of his eyes like they were faucets in need of repair, and he held his arms out to me and fell onto the steps. Being hormonal, I lost my shit, too. Tears were shooting out of my eyes! Then D started to scream in my arms. We were a collective mess, frozen there on the stairs. Brian had gone outside for something so didn't hear any of the commotion. I don't even know what I did to fix things. I think I sat down on the step with him until he calmed down, and until I calmed down, and the baby continued to scream. Eventually I talked us all off the ledge and we made our way up the stairs without damaging my post-delivery stitches (E walked up).
Fortunately, times like that were few, and now that D is nearly six months and very interested in anyone who wants to make him smile or laugh, we all find him more fun. He looks at E like he's the most hilarious, entertaining being on the planet. (He looks at me like I'm exactly what I am: his next meal.) Once we realized that dealing with a baby is about 95 percent physical, while having a toddler is about 95 percent mental, we were okay. And E no longer refers to his brother as "that baby."
*I hate the word blouse. Slacks is a close second. The shirt in question could only be described as a blouse, it was loose and shiny and I think it had a tie/scarf feature around the neck. Yep, definitely a blouse.
