Second Baby Syndrome

I believe you can tell how much a couple loves their baby by the number of apparatuses designed to hold said infant in the loving parents' living room. For instance, in our living room we currently have a swing, bumbo chair, stand up toy thingy, lay down toy thingy and vibrating chair. This means I love my baby more than you love yours. When he's tired of standing in the stand up toy thingy, I move him to the swing. He naps there for 10 minutes and then I move him to the bumbo chair to play. He gets antsy sitting so I put him under the lay down toy thingy. Then he starts rolling all over and I'm not finished folding the laundry yet, so I contain him in the vibrating chair.

Well, this is awkward.....

Apparently, on paper, it looks as though I don't love the child at all! Huh.........

Are we the only parents that neglect the second baby?

Back up...neglect is a strong word. He's loved. He's fed. His diaper is almost always (leaking) perfectly clean. And, yes, I dress him in clean freaking clothes everyday! Straight up doting mother here.

See! He's held all the time (to take pictures). But I remember holding Grayson nonstop from the day he came home until, well, now. He was always cuddled and held until it was bedtime. And then we would put him in his bed and he would drift off to the sounds......no, wait, that's never happened. He's always slept with us and under my back. But not my Gideon. My poor, neglected second child spends the evening laughing at his parents from across the room in his swing and then is put in his bassinet to face the night alone.

Is this normal? I love him just as much as Grayson. In fact, most days I like him way more than Grayson. That ain't a joke. He's so much nicer and sweeter and his smile lights up a room. But will he look back and think we didn't love him? Will he suffer from anxiety or rage because his mommy didn't coddle him? Will he kill me in my sleep Menendez brothers style because we made him hold his own bottle at 5 months old?

Maybe he'll just be really successful and independent and I can take all the credit for that. 

 Okay, okay I know I'm exaggerating (honey). We do hold and cuddle the little fatty but not near as much as we should. He's going to grow up and skip off to school in a couple years and I'm gonna be left wondering what the hell happened to my little baby boy. He's our last little bundle of joy (as long as the vasectomy holds, fingers crossed) and we should be cherishing every minute instead of letting life, or his demanding big brother, get in the way. God knows he already has enough to handle with Grayson's big ass head coming at him every five minutes. The sweet boy is gonna get some extra cuddles from mommy tonight.

 

Boys Suck

It mostly sucks living with boys. It's not necessarily all the testosterone and frequent F-bombs (Grayson), it's just the all-around disgustingness and incessant, never-ending whining (Grover). Nobody else cares about tanning or HGTV. I'm the only one who loves Channing and hasn't hit my head today.

For those of you with high-maintenance girls hanging around, you must think I'm nuts. I get it. You're probably sick to death of hair bows and tutus, ringlets and barbies. I'm sure all the pink pictures, tea parties, toy kitchens and stuffed animals really sends you to the edge of insanity. Puh-lease. I just got jacked in the head with a toy van. Get over yourself.

There is piss everywhere. No place is off-limits for urine apparently. One baby with a 3 inch wee-wee consistently out-pees the most durable diaper. One two year old drinks 47 glasses of milk/juice/ water a day and is somewhere between embarrassed of his diaper dependency and actually using the facilities properly without jumping off mid-stream. And then there is the 37 year old husband who needs his own set of toilet rings.

In our house, all play is rough and dangerous. The boys just finished up a wholesome game of "throw the ball at each other's face". And now I'm watching the father of my children teach my 7 month old how to bitch slap his brother. And they laugh. Hysterically.

You gotta stay on your toes in this loving home. Around every corner there is an 81% chance someone is hiding to scare you...creating more opportunities for unwanted urine spots.

Oh God, the smell of poo. It never goes away. That's all I'm gonna say about that cause I might cry.

There's lots of yelling, running, crying, whining, hitting and biting. Nobody ever smells good (with the exception of my husband when he's trying to get some). They all sit in the dirt and play with bugs. They track mud on my clean floor and leave a trail of toys and dirty clothes in their path. At least one shoe in every closet has dog shit caked on the bottom and, you guessed it, we own 0 dogs. Furniture is always flipped over. A new bruise is proudly formed every hour. And nobody can EVER find a FLIPPING THING without asking me for help.

Do I love them? Yes. Mostly. They're cute and they make me laugh. Do I think I'm gonna make it another 18 years? Nope. Not a chance. But I'm sure they'll kill each other way before that.

Mother of the Year

Grayson tried to drown himself today.

Uh huh. 

He had no floaties on. No life-jacket. No ring around his stomach. And no, he cannot swim. He's freaking two.

I'll pause while you call child protective services.

Let me tell you the full story. This kid loves to go to the pool. "MA! GO WAWER! MA!" He packs up his bag of "truches" and I pack up SPF 9000 and off we go! Gideon mostly naps in the stroller with the occasional splash in the baby pool while mommy bakes in the sun. And Grayson REFUSES to get in. He'll barely stick his feet in. If you even mention to him it might be fun to actually get IN the pool, he loses his cool. He'll throw every single truck he owns in the damn pool and then find some sweet, unsuspecting, brave 3-year old to fetch them.

And this is what we do.

Until today.

I was having a very nice conversation with another pool mom today when my very un-brave 2 year old ventured over to the 3-4 foot pool. No biggie. He'll never get in. Well the little douche leaned for a ball and.......SPLASH. Gravity and the biggest head in the world combined and toppled him into the WAWER. I watched the whole thing go down. It's not like I wasn't eagle eying him like an effing hawk.  I just underestimated how far he would go to get a ball.

We sprinted. We screamed. The sweet boy in the pool pulled him out before I reached him. He was literally under for 3 seconds. The longest 3 seconds of my life.

No crying. No fear of the water. But I'm sure there was plenty of judging.

I'd judge me. Hell, I'm already judging me. But then I remember those 3 seconds of utter, uncontrollable, hysterical fear and I think I've claimed my punishment. Anyone aware of a facility that gives swimming lessons without the actual act of getting in the water?