I don’t know if it’s just hormones, but lately I’ve really been enjoying my kids.
Before you go all OMG in your Gretchen Weiner voice, I’ll explain. I love my kids like crazy. So much that sometimes I ache. I actually lay in bed at night and yearn for them (unless I’m drunk and then I’m okay). I sneak into their rooms to watch them sleep.
But having two littles (two very little littles at that) is hard, you guys. Codie turns eight months old TOMORROW and she isn’t quite crawling yet, but she can roll all the way across the room if you let her, and Kenzie is three years old and 90% potty-trained, and taking care of them both at the same time is sometimes a little more of a clusterfuck than I thought it would be, and I didn’t have any delusions about how clusterfucky it would be (except I guess I did).
Also, even though one of them sleeps in, the other one still wakes up at the crack of dawn.
And having one more cultivator of bacteria in the house means somebody is almost always sick. I can only assume that someday all this germ exposure will pay off in the form of superhuman immunity, but in the meantime, amoxicillin.
When you’re thinking about having another kid, the rationale is that maybe since you’ve already got this one kid, adding another one isn’t going to be THAT hard because at least you know how to do a lot of parenting things already.
Except it turns out I don’t know how to do any parenting things. Codie is the polar opposite of Kenzie. And I’m not saying that like it’s her fault or she’s a BAD baby. They’re both good and healthy and happy and smart and I’m way luckier than I deserve to be for as much of a bitch as I am.
Codie smiles ALL THE TIME. Misses a nap? Smiles. Double ear infection? Smiles. Hasn’t pooped in four days? Lethargic, but smiling. But she doesn’t do anything the way I think she will.
But right around 6-7 months, when Codie could finally sit up and Kenzie was starting to figure out that she had somebody she could dress up and boss around all the time (“We’re going to turn this baby into a zebra!”), this cool thing happened. They started playing together.
I found that instead of having to be right there all the time holding the baby or making sure Kenzie didn’t hug her too hard or knock her over or hand her a choking hazard or mash her face into the carpet or step on her, I could just sit back and watch them. (I mean, I could do that it two minute increments before I had to run interference).
It felt glorious.
I can see the future, you guys, And in it, the girls are playing together while I completely ignore them and get drunk. It’s what I envisioned the whole time I was pregnant. It’s what I’ve been waiting for since we brought #2 home from the hospital. Enjoying all the happy feels of being a mom and none of the work.
If only babies were born eight months old. And potty-trained.