We are alive. Very much so in fact. And doing quite well, I'd say, but our current mode (survival mode - sleep as much as possible mode - focus on the babies mode) does not allow for much blogging time (or phone time, answering e-mail time, sending thank you notes time...though I am chipping away at those, finally). I wish it did. I think of the blog often, and all the things I'm not saying about this transition time.
I'd tell you we are blessed beyond belief with a godsend of a second baby. Oh Eliza, you taught me so much. But your baby sister wins the easiest newborn baby award. I love you both the same.
I'd tell our second girl this: sweet, sweet Genevieve, I've fallen so very hard for you. There are many things that the first babies get that their siblings do not. But one thing you get is a mother who knows what she's doing, one who can just soak up the time that flies so fast with two. I am much more aware of what matters, what doesn't. What I'll do the same *(sleep schedules: they matter and work) and what I will not stress over *(milestones). I don't care when you hold your head up or roll over or sing me a song. I just want to love on you endlessly and marvel at your coos and squeaks and dreamy smiles and oh - OH - those real, spontaneous, social smiles. Precious and pure as gold at first and you never know when they're coming, but they make your heart sing like almost nothing ever has. The best. I'd almost forgotten.
Falling in love with your second is a very different, though equally magical process. For me thus far, this time is much more purely sweet, far less stressful and far less dark. I'm grateful to be healthy this time around; I for sure didn't realize how much worse my health was making everything in those sweet early days with Eliza. I actually thought I was supposed to feel that terrible. And as my dear friend (a fellow two under two-er) put it, "I'm not wandering around in my nightgown unshowered with my boob hanging out, looking totally stoned and sobbing uncontrollably." You don't really have time to, either, thank goodness. Becoming a mother for the first time is just not easy any way you slice it. With two, you just...go.
I'd tell you how easily and seamlessly Genevieve became a part of us, and made us a family of four. She requires very little of us except to be fed and snuggled. We've got cuddles in spades around here.
I'd tell you how, at a mere 19 months, Eliza became the most intuitive, beautiful big sister.
Loves to help me change Genevieve's diaper, doles out spontaneous kisses and hugs all day long, eagerly shares blankets and baby dolls and stickers and jewelry with her unappreciative sister (I swear I'm supervising vigilantly...):
How she loves to rock her sister, and asks every morning (and afternoon) to hold her.
Her latest obsession, the ABCs (both the song and the alphabet in general) has now become the lullaby she sings as she rocks her sister. Genevieve lights up when sister holds her (then cries over being poked and lovingly, clumsily mishandled, poor thing). Their bond is one to watch.
I told you about our doozy day. Right around 4 weeks we hit a decent bump in the road. Eliza was feeling like a 20 month-old who suddenly realized her baby sister came with some unwanted new changes to our home. It was a tough week; I'd felt like up until then I had done a good job reassuring her, and giving her extra love, extra encouragement, extra positive reinforcement - hell, we even have a sticker chart now - but I think at some point they just have to test it, to make sure they aren't being replaced. That night, doing bedtime solo and at my wit's end, I shut the door on my defiant little button pusher in the dark - no story, no bedtime chat, no nothing - and she finally broke down and wailed. It was the only thing that got through to her, but I felt terrible. Such a bad mama moment. I returned after a few deep breaths and hugged her tight. We cried. We both apologized ("Dawy mommy"). No more. When they are at their worst, I remember hearing somewhere, they need the most love.
The next day, I left tiny Genevieve home with our wonderful babysitter and a bottle and took Eliza on a mama date for the morning. A muffin and coffee at BookPeople, some new books, Anthropologie to try on accessories (her) and clothes (me). She sat on a stool in the dressing room and helpfully told me which were her favorites. Sister gobbled up every minute. So did I. Over the weekend, we went to Saturday morning breakfast together. By the end of the weekend we had a different child on our hands.
And although we still have our moments (she IS still a toddler) we are clicking along again. She loves sister. It was never about her. It was her feeling insecure about us. Mama dates were always going to be a critical part of my parenting strategy, especially with sisters, but now I've seen they work.
I'd tell you all the things I'm learning about mothering two. How to dress a toddler while nursing and nurse a newborn while drying your hair. How neither will starve if you don't get there RIGHT then. How the days fly by, until 5:00 hits and the minutes creep like molasses in January (this was true with one, except sometimes it was the whole day that crept by). How amazing it is to watch a bond blossom between sisters. And at one point, it WAS January but now it's almost March and how did that happen? Too fast, too fast. I'm not ready for my newborn to turn into a baby or my toddler to turn two. Whew. Fun times indeed.
Genevieve is an amazing sleeper. So there's that to tell you. Cue choir of angels/knock wood/praise sweet, sweet baby Jesus.
Here she is wearing a flower behind her ear. She does that too. We think we'll keep her.
I heard the second baby is harder on the husband. That's probably true. He comes home from a long day at the office and we are in full gear around here - balancing bowls on our heads and babies in the crook of our arms, and everyone needs a bath including me. But I'll tell you - he's doing an amazing job juggling it all. He is the BEST daddy to girls. The best husband to me. We are lucky, lucky, lucky.
We have our crazy days. But don't we all? And we're still figuring stuff out. It's not all rosy. It's just not the terrible thing everyone (and I mean everyone) at your nosy old lady grocery store tells you it's going to be when you're pregnant - "Wow. You're going to have your hands full!" We're managing well. We're having fun. Lots of love going around in this wonderful new house of ours.
I'd tell you we have started off most mornings since Genevieve was born with a dance party at breakfast. And sometimes before dinner. Often to the Pandora's station of the Band/Van Morrison, or perhaps the Jackson 5 (they sing Eliza's favorite, the ABCs - it's easy as 1-2-3). And sometimes I'm half-dead, often times I have a baby on my boob while I'm doing it, always I feel very silly, but she thinks it's great fun. And somehow it tricks my tired brain into thinking it's going to be a great, fun, easy day.
And most days, it is.
*I keep up much better on Instagram. Please feel free to follow me: lmilleratx. It's like a mini-Busted Pie blog post throughout the day! XO
