(This post was written on June 6, 2012)
Did I ever tell you the story of when Kase and I went away for a week to Paris? And while we were there, I dyed my hair (I don’t know, don’t ask), ate my weight in pate, and took an unpasteurized cheese tour. Oh yeah, and I rang in the new year by drinking half a bottle of Limoncello with a bunch of Italians, screaming “Buon Ano!” In Paris. It was awesome.
Then we came home and I found out I was pregnant. That was one pickled baby.
This past weekend, Kase and I went away together to a castle, drank our faces off, barrel rolled down hills, chugged beers and partook in general foolery only appropriate for those half our age.
And then we came home and found out we were pregnant. That’s gonna be one pickled baby.
Woopsie daisy. Redux.
So the other night, Colin had some night fits. He clutched me for dear life and wouldn’t sleep without me holding and cuddling him and it was a sweet moment because my kid? Not so huggy. Not a clinger. And yet, I thought to myself, “Well, this will pass in about 20 minutes and then I can go back to my own bed for the rest of the night. THANK JESUS” And I know I distinctly felt grateful that at least, at the very least, we didn’t have a newborn waking us up every two hours to nurse. Cuz, boy, would that suck.
I should have just peed on a stick then. I mean, when you have thoughts like that it’s pretty much God making you pregnant. And laughing at you. (Mine is a silly God who likes practical jokes and whoopee cushions. He and I have a lot of fun and we laugh a lot. Mostly at me.)
I have to be honest: I’m scared. Here’s why. I feel like we just finally hit a new stride with Colin. He’s really turning into a kid before my very eyes. And more than that? He’s become quite independent. Which can be both good and bad. The bad comes with the tantrums that only seem to occur in public with the most judgey of strangers. And those are the days I cry. But mostly? It’s good. Really good. He’s more and more verbal each day. Words really make a difference, let me tell you. Also, he’s become a helpful little dude around the house. Like when he throws out his own trash and brings me a diaper from the cabinet. Or when he hurls himself from his carseat once unbuckled. Not that I’m lazy or anything. Just trying to underscore that he can be helpful.
As I sit here and look at Colin in his “Big Brother” shirt that he donned to spill the beans to Kase, I can’t help but smile. No matter my own fears, I want him to have a sibling to share memories with. We wanted this and we feel really lucky. Kase is an only child whereas I’m the youngest of seven. We had such different experiences growing up. What I mean by that was, mine was better. ;) I would not be the person I am today without the blessing of my siblings. For instance, I know I wouldn’t be nearly as skilled a negotiator when it comes to watching what I want on TV. And let’s face it: that’s the really important stuff in life. Being able to watch Teen Mom in peace.
Of course, I’m still scared.
I’m scared to experience the sleepless nights again. My child sleeps through the night. Every night. And the odd night he doesn’t? We watch a lot of PBS and Disney Jr. the next day. I covet my sleep. Becoming a parent didn’t help matters. It made my condition worse.
I’m scared about tantrums. I’m afraid the child I already have is so strong willed and I’m not a good enough parent to get it under control. I must be doing something wrong. I’m afraid a new baby will result in even worse behavior regression. I’m scared of jealousy and aggression. And I’m really scared I won’t be able to handle it all. But I’ve got my copy of “Parenting Your Strong Willed Child” and I’m not afraid to use it, buddy.
I’m scared that this time around, our baby will resemble Kase and me, and to be honest? That would make me sad. I love my blond, blue eyed boy, wherever he came from. The recessive genetics lottery better work its magic again. Otherwise, I foresee a future with Kase constantly asking me what the Fed Ex man looks like. And me responding that UPS usually delivers my Amazon orders. The point is, I now expect that our biological children will not resemble either of us, which is a nice bonus when said child is tantruming and everyone at the pool/park/store thinks I’m the nanny. The poor, underpaid, overworked and under-appreciated nanny.
I’m not scared about the big deal items. Colin will love being a big brother. I know it. He’s got just the right bossy attitude that makes him perfect for the role. I’m not scared about loving both of my children, which always seems to be a concern for other first time parents expecting their second child. My child will tell you he could use a break from my smothering hugs every now and then. I know this because when I ask for a hug, he screams “NOOOOO!” and runs out of the room. LIke I said earlier, his verbal communication is really helpful. In hurting my feelings. But I’m sure the resulting crying (by me) is just due to hormones. Yeah.
So here’s hoping for a happy healthy pregnancy, free from sleep regression, toddler tantrums, crying jags (me), heartburn and extreme weight gain.
Baby Jubboori, making its debut February 2013
Update (written July 17, 2012):
I had a lot of concern over being pregnant again. We went through a rough period with Colin for a few weeks when I wrote this. He was throwing daily tantrums, embarrassing me whenever we went out in public. REAL EMBARASSMENT. Like, “Can I help you wrangle your child into that grocery cart so that you will unblock the entrance?” embarrassment. Like, the “Me? I’m just the nanny.” kind of embarassment. No venue was safe, not even the park. Not the pool. Nowhere. So we stayed home a lot. And of course, I cried a lot and called Kase and told him I couldn’t do this and what in the world were we thinking and maybe we should get Colin some help, like Super Nanny, or maybe I need Super Nanny because I’m not a good parent, clearly.
However, I am happy to report the tantrums are almost gone (knock wood) and the hugs and kisses are free and easy. We laugh and play and my kid? He is awesome. And I’m not a bad mom after all. I think I attribute this change to the fact that his vocabulary has exploded, so perhaps he was just frustrated with his lack of communication. Now? I can’t get the kid to shut up. Clearly, he takes after me. If we weren’t already pregnant, I am sure I would be telling Kase we should have another child. It was a rough two week period there, but my concerns and fears are subsiding. Which is a good thing, because if I learned anything the first time around? You’re never really ready for a baby. But it’s coming. So deal with it.