Oh. Hey.

Oh, hey. Didn't see you there. Because I wasn't here until just now.

It's been a minute or two since I've hung out with you here, right? Oh? Five and a half months? I'm just going to awkwardly laugh and pretend that's nothing. Nothing!

Sooo, how's your mom 'n' 'em? How are you? Goooood, gooood. Glad to hear it.

Oh, me? Let's see, I'm doing pretty well. What's new since last we spoke?

Patrick and I have done a good bit of work on our house primarily funded by the sale of his Jeep. We've painted (translation: he's painted), gotten trees cut down and brush cleared, updated light fixtures, and some other small odds and ends. We used some of that Jeep money to buy a replacement car, too. We were highly productive during January and February until...

I had another baby in early March. Had I mentioned I was pregnant? Yeah, we flew in to the hospital on two wheels when, as it turns out, I was fully dilated and ready to go, pushed twice, and an enormous 9 pound and 1 ounce girl flew out of me.

I was 15 minutes from having a car baby and a REALLY good story. Alas, getting there just in the nick of time will have to do for your entertainment.

I also got to wear my Mommy Medal for having a second unmedicated labor and childbirth (whether I meant to or not). But they revoked it when they realized I was doing formula again. Mom-ing is hard, ya know? 

Anyway, we named her Zoe. No, that does not rhyme with "toe." It rhymes with "Joey." It's a thing, look it up. She has enormous feet unlike her sister, the prettiest eyes, fluffy brown hair, and smiles a lot. She's super cute, if you ask me. We like her. 

ProTip: It's significantly less stressful going from 1 kid to 2 than it is going from none to 1. Why? Well, I think mainly because you're already sleepy, so the second kid just jumps in mid-stream to your not-sleeping thing, rather than initiating the not-sleeping. It's less of an adjustment, you know?

Nine short days after I birthed a baby, my first baby turned 2. She didn't just passively turn 2 years old, like, "La-ti-da, I guess it's just any other day." Oh no. SHE COMMITTED TO THE ROLE.

Precisely at her birth minute, 6:31 am (of course we were already awake), she suddenly stood up tall and straight, held her fists together at chest-level like an action figure or superhero, and said in an unnervingly deep voice, "ENGAGE TODDLER." And since that moment she's been a Two-Year-Old: strong-willed, funny, sassy, defiant, contrary, silly, nonsensical one moment and too smart the next. She's exhausting and fun and we like her. 

Since people ask, she has adjusted beautifully to having a baby sister. No, really. We were reasonably worried it would be a rough transition since basically everyone we talked to said their oldest had a little trouble when Baby #2 came home. Not so, thank heavens. Basically Sutton's reactions went like this:

Why am I visiting mom in this weird place? She's sitting in a weird toddler bed with side rails, wearing pajamas, and frankly, she looks like she gave up on her appearances. Sad. What is she holding, a large blanket burrito? Whatever. Yay! Mimi and PopPop are spending the night with me!

Hooray! Mom and Dad are home! Why did they bring a baby with them? They have no energy. Booooring. Wait, never mind, they are letting me watch so much TV. I love this. 

Oh. That thing is still here again today. It's MY baby, as it turns out. That's what they told me. That's cool. Hi baby.

Oh, that baby is Baby Zoe. I can kiss her? I will kiss her.


Wait, gotta stop and say hi to the baby. Hi Baby Zoe! I'll kiss her feet. Oh! Mom! Her hand brushed against me and I think she tried to tickle me! Zoe tickled me! 

Okay, love you Zoe. Gotta go play in the cabinets under the bathroom sink before mom and dad realize what I'm doing. I'll be back to check on you in 3.25 minutes covered in the shampoo from bottle they will soon realize is not, in fact, out of my reach.

I mean, in a nutshell, that's how it went.

After 12 glorious weeks of maternity leave (I thankfully did not suffer from the postpartum anxiety I had after Sutton's birth), I had to return to work. That was a punch to the ol' gut. Does my employer not respect my need to go for daily walks with my neighbors? To watch entire series of television shows? To snuggle my baby any time I feel like it while my older child happily plays at daycare? No. They do not.

Well, they do support it if I'm willing to do it for free and without benefits. Which I am... as long as Patrick's income doubles or triples. So, you know, I'm working still. 

#PatrickNeedsToHustle #MamaLikesNetflix #CanWeStillSendThemToDaycare? #AndHireACleaningService?

Being a working parent with two kids has its drawbacks, of course. Namely the amount of money we spend on daycare. We basically have three mortgages: 1 actual mortgage, and 2 more in the form of tuition for each child. Evenings and mornings during the week are kind of exhausting, too. I feel like I'm constantly moving at high speed and accomplishing nothing more than somehow making a mess in the kitchen. Like, how did I dirty all the spoons, a cutting mat, and 5 bowls when all I did was reheat leftover pizza? HOW?

But there are perks, too. For instance, I resumed my old habit of working out on my lunch break. I'm also eating way healthier and we're spending less money at Target. If I had any shot in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks of losing the little bit of extra weight, it wasn't while I was at home eating "OH MY LAW I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE and I'll get some Chick-fil-a while I'm at it" for lunch. Another huge perk is the sheer delight of seeing my girls' faces at the end of the working day. It's my favorite time of day.

That it precedes an evening of hangry toddler whining and sleepy baby crying is neither here nor there. 

I'm sure there's more to share, but I know you've got to get going. So I'll just wrap this up and say that I'll see you here again sometime soon. Probably at least once before Christmas.

Big babies, new cars, and home repair fanciness to you and yours,


Popular posts from this blog

SpaPeggy and Meatballs.

Postmortem predation.

De Quervain's tenosynovitis.