We Have Two Babes.

Lad's mean-mug and Hattie's piercing scream. #onehappyfamily

We’re good at this picture thing, huh?

For those wondering what it’s like adjusting to baby number two…LOL.
I don’t know what I thought life with a two-year old and an infant would be like. Part of me says it’s easier because it’s not nearly as scary with a baby the second time around; you realize that they aren’t going to just break at any moment. So that’s nice. But it’s also much more difficult because, well, there’s TWO OF THEM. I honestly don’t know what I did with all my time before children.

Overall we’re adjusting just fine and we all like each other a majority of the time. I don’t think Lad remembers what life was like before Hattie came home so that’s a huge plus, but there’s times during the day when he’s like “MOOOMMMMMMMMMM. MEEEEEEEEEEEE.” Which is to be expected. LOL.

He’s gotten muuuch better at playing by himself (PTL) and he does like the fact that he can have more independence. AKA he gets into more stuff and is somehow usually covered in a very thick layer of dirt by 11:00 a.m. He’s alsoa little confused as to why she doesn’t do anything. Reasonable. So the other day we laid her on the ground and built cow pens around her and let the cows and “neighs” and “hee-haws” crawl over her like a mountain. I think that gave her some street cred in his book.

You definitely loosen up a whole lot when there’s more than one kid to worry about. I’ve noticed my selective hearing has also improved. There are a few things though that I’ve learned still need to be supervised, however. Eating cereal is one of those things.

The other morning Lad was eating and seemed pretty entertained so I went to the laundry room to tackle the mountain of clothes that never seems to go away. As I was walking back I heard “hat!” and knew things weren’t good. I got to the kitchen and saw Lad – proud as can be – with his bowl flipped over on top of his head telling me he was wearing a hat. Oh good. Luckily most of his milk had somehow ended up on his plate with his scrambled eggs, so the floor wasn’t a complete disaster, but I would have preferred it to have gone in his belly. Oh well. He did look pretty cute with a bowl on his head. I’ll give it to him.

Stuff like that tends to happen pretty regularly. It’s a good thing he’s funny because otherwise the sleep deprivation would bring out a yelly-monster-mom FOSHO. So he better stay cute if he knows what’s good for him. 🙂

Hattie is already pretty high-maintenance when it comes to her demands. At night when it’s time to put on jammies she gets a warm washcloth under her neck rolls and a nice little coconut oil massage. This is literally the only time she will just lay and not squirm. I can respect the quality of life she is creating for herself. I on the other hand can’t remember the last time I’ve gotten a pedicure and haven’t been to the beauty shop in 10 months. She’s got the whole #selfcare thing down already.

Anyways. As I was wiping her down I lifted up her arm…and there was a piece of Ritz cracker in her armpit. Really. But I’d honestly be lying if I said I was surprised. I’m not totally sure who to place the blame on either…my gut (and the empty cracker wrapper that was left on the counter earlier that day) is telling me it was Reese.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve dropped food on my children’s heads while eating/cooking/baby-wearing plenty of times. But a cracker in the armpit? That’s new to me.

Overall she’s a good baby; she’s got the eat/sleep/poop thing down for sure. And the whole being a PRECIOUS ANGEL BABY helps her case. (I forgot how hard it is waking up in the middle of the night to feed and pump, but I think my eyeballs are starting to get used to it. They better anyways, because we’ve still got a long ways to go. She knows this is a good time to have a cute little smile because otherwise Mommy would be grumpy.)

I hope I’m back next week with some kind of potty training or sleep training success story, but chances are slim; we all know it will most likely have to do with poops or chasing chickens or some kind of minor disaster that only happens in our home. 🙂


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *