There are websites where you can make pregnancy counters or baby’s age counters or whatever. I have those pregnancy/baby counters on my sadly neglected baby blog. Since I’m “expecting” two books this year and one right after the new year, I thought I’d do counters for those as well. This is what my year looks like right now:
Patrick’s second year
Baby Brother on the way
Spring 2011 book
Fall 2011 book (Guessing on release date)
Winter 2012 book (Also a guess)
Oof. What a year it’s going to be!
Do you know David Vienna? If you have a baby or toddler or twins or just a good sense of humor about parenting, you should read The Daddy Complex. I know, I know, it’s another parenting blog. But he’s funny. And honest. Brutally honest. My favorite posts are the “conversations” he has with his twin boys Wyatt and Boone (are those not awesome names?). They’re not real conversations-- his boys are only around 2, I think-- but I bet if his kids could carry on full conversations, they’d sound just like this:
Do Over
Wyatt: Hey, dude. You got a sec?
Me: Sure.
Wyatt: I just wanted to let you know I’m going to throw a fit in a few minutes.
Me: What?
Wyatt: Yeah. And it’s going to be a doozy. Shrieking, crying, hitting, flailing. It’ll be like a greatest hits of my best tantrums.
Me: No. Please.
Boone: What’s going on?
Me: Your brother… Get your finger out of your nose. Your brother says he’s going to throw a massive fit.
Boone: Cool. Wait. Let me get my crackers.
Me: Why? I mean if you know it’s coming, maybe we can avoid it.
Wyatt: You can’t avoid the inevitable, old man. I’ve got to go pee. You’re going to ask me to go on the potty. That’s how it will start.
Me: Well, you have to learn to use the potty.
Wyatt: See? Inevitable. Once I get going, I’ll ramp up quickly to nuclear holocaust level.
Boone: I’m back. What did I miss?
Me: He says he’s going to throw a fit because I’m going to tell him to use the potty.
Boone: Oh, good, a classic.
Wyatt: I’m telling you, this will be like the Armageddon of meltdowns.
Boone: I love this story.
Me: What if I don’t ask you to use the potty?
Wyatt: What?
Boone: A twist! Awesome.
Me: Experts say if a child reacts badly to potty training to put them back in diapers and sort of hit the reset button.
Boone: Wow! I did not see that coming.
Wyatt: I guess that would be okay.
Me: Okay. Let’s get you in a diaper and we’ll try the potty training again in a week or two.
Boone: Hold on. That’s it? That’s no way to end this story. Where’s the action, the drama, the pathos?
Me: It’s best for Wyatt.
Boone: Fine. While you’re in problem-solving mode, I just wet my pants.
Patrick hasn’t reached the tantrum stage-- and I won’t mind if he bypasses that toddler milestone entirely-- but these “conversations” remind me that tantrums and potty training and all the rest of the madness of toddlerhood will eventually pass. Might as well laugh at the frustrating stuff-- and enjoy the good stuff.
It’s an interesting social experiment to tell people you’re pregnant. When I got pregnant with Patrick the response was overwhelmingly positive. Good wishes were heaped on me and I basked in it, hoping all that positive energy would fend off anything bad from happening. I’m superstitious like that. I’d had a miscarriage the previous year, so I know those early good wishes were tempered with caution-- much like my acceptance of those good wishes. But as the months wore on, others showed such joy in my increasingly growing condition. Not in a mean way-- in that way a pregnant woman walking into a room will garner attention and inspire smiles. It was nice.
So I find myself a bit perplexed this time around. Granted, it’s still early (just over 8 weeks) and there is still reason for plenty of caution. But the responses I’ve gotten to this pregnancy have not been as positive as they were with Patrick. In fact, there is an undercurrent of negativity in some of the things people have said. “Again? Wow, you’re really in for it!” “I’m going to laugh if this one doesn’t sleep as well as Patrick.” “This one won’t be as good as Patrick.” “You’re never going to have time for yourself now!” “That’s crazy!” And so on.
I suppose having back-to-back babies at my age is a bit of a shocker for anyone (including me) and perhaps no one quite knows how to take it. Patrick could be seen as the miracle baby after the miscarriage and considering my age, plus the fact that I’ve been married forever and it seemed certain we’d never have children. (Never mind that we weren’t actively trying to have children most of those years.) So if Patrick is the miracle, this pregnancy would be, what? It confuses people, I suppose.
The negative comparisons to Patrick bother me more than the rest. There is almost a malicious glee in some of those comments. Having a baby who is an excellent sleeper seems to bother people, whether they have children or not. Why is that? So now I’m being heaped with all these warnings that second babies aren’t like first babies-- they’re worse. They never sleep, they cry all the time, they aren’t as happy as their older siblings, they are completely different in every way. I have joked that the next baby will be a terror-- but I find it shocking that other people feel compelled to say such things.
The negative stuff isn’t the norm, though sometimes it feels like it when I get back to back comments from people. There have been many, many happy wishes and I’m grateful for every one, perhaps even more so this time around. Knowing what the months will bring in terms of worry and stress, I appreciate all the positive energy I can get. I think the unkind comments are so jarring because they’re so unexpected. Even if it’s said in a joking way, a wish for me to have a baby who never sleeps feels like a curse. Or maybe it’s just my overwrought pregnancy hormones taking things too personally. It’s certainly possible.
Come what may, I don’t regret telling people as early as I did about this pregnancy. I will bask in the good wishes of the people who are genuinely happy for me and let that good energy deflect those who aren’t. And I will keep my fingers crossed for a baby who is healthy and happy and sleeps as well as his brother.
Patrick had a play date at our house on Monday with three other little girls, ages almost 1, 2 and 3 and a 1/2. Can I just say that play dates for one year olds are kind of pointless? At this age, he’s not interested in playing with other children--he’s only interested in the fact that other children are playing with his toys!! The horror! Patrick and his almost-one-year old friend Sydney weren’t at all interested in each other and were only in the same vicinity when they shared a mutual interest. Below, they were both watching Jay abandon me leave to go to the store.
Also, play dates are a bit like herding noisy cats. Children scattered hither and yon, constantly needing to be relocated to the main play area again and again. (Can you tell I’m not a big fan of the play date?) Oh, it wasn’t so bad-- just far noisier with 4 children than with my one solitary child who does not yet know how to turn on the toys that make noise. A skill that he will apparently learn by the time he hits 2. Of course, I think play dates will be more fun for all of us when he’s a bit older. Apparently, at this age children engage in what is called parallel play, playing adjacent to other children but not actually playing with other children. Of course, the only time Patrick was adjacent to another child was when that child had one of his toys. Oh, the horror!
I have a friend who had a child around the same time I did and who now is a big fan of baby play dates-- perhaps because they now take the place of adult play dates for her. I’d much prefer adult conversation in a quiet restaurant, but it seems any time I suggest it, the conversation comes back around to baby play dates. Ah well. Different parenting styles, I suppose. I love this little guy, but I crave my adult play dates-- something I’ve had a serious shortage of lately.
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