Preschoolers and race

The Boy and the husband often watch videos on mlb.com, usually of the Cincinnati Reds. (The Boy's favorite is one where second baseman Brandon Phillips runs over the pitcher.) Tonight, they watched this video about the best pitchers from black baseball, meaning the pitchers from the Negro Leagues, before baseball integrated. They started talking about Satchel Paige.

The Boy wanted to know who he was and asked if he played for the Cardinals.

No, the husband said. Satchel Paige was a really good pitcher, but he couldn't play with the Cardinals and the other players.

Which of course led to the eternal preschooler question: Why?

So, the husband, trying to keep it simple said: Because he was different he couldn't play.

Why?

Because people were racist, the husband said. (He still was trying to avoid the discussion.)

Why? (Damn preschoolers. Can't let anything go.)

Because he was black, the husband said.

Why?

Because his skin was a different color, the husband said. But he was a really good pitcher and who knows how good he could have been if he played with all the other players. And that's not very nice that they didn't let him play, is it?

No, The Boy said.

And then he told a story about when he and his friend were older and weren't allowed to play for the Cardinals.

---

As adults, we say that skin color doesn't matter. And it doesn't. But I don't think that acting as if we all look alike sends kids the right message. They can see that we all look different. So, when skin color -- or any other difference (The husband had to explain about wheelchairs the other day) -- comes up, we usually just acknowledge it and say something else about the person. The Boy said V at school had brown skin, for example, and I said, yes and she has red hair, isn't she pretty?

Admittedly though, I have no real guide from my own childhood for talking about race. Unlike my boys, I grew up in a very white, rural area. There was such little diversity that a black kid who graduated from one of the small school districts in our county was referenced in conversations as The Black Kid from Little School. I don't remember even thinking about race until late elementary school. I wonder if the husband and I are handling this the right way. Will he go to school tomorrow and tell someone they can't play because their skin is a different color? Did he take away that it was wrong to do that? How will this translate for a 3-year-old?

So, tell me, how do you talk to your kids about race?

Scary thought

Fourteen years ago I was 16. I was dating my first serious boyfriend, working part time so I could pay for my fake nails and trips with my church's youth group and was a junior in high school involved in every activity I could be. I was just learning to drive and thinking about what college I wanted to go to.

I am sure I was driving my parents nuts.

It really doesn't seem like that long ago.

Guess what. In 14 years we will have a 16 year old.

That is my scary thought for the day.

I arrived at this while looking for preschools for Peanut this week. We have our first visit on Wednesday (as long as snowpocalypse doesn't stop us.) After scheduling the visit, it hit me. I am a parent. I am responsible for this little person's health, education and overall well being. I've had these moments before but this one hit me harder.

I then started thinking about how I got here which led to the scary thought. The little person who loves princesses and Elmo, who adores her father and her little sister, who calls for me when she's hurt, who makes up songs and chatters a blue streak after her naps, this little person will not always be little.

She will 16, with a boyfriend, asking for our car keys, looking for our credit cards so she buy a prom dress, arguing about homework, begging us to extend her curfew and looking forward to leaving us for college.

It won't be that long. Sigh.

Recipe for crazy

1 willful 1-year-old

1 chatty 3-year-old

1 still-sick Daddyman

1 busy Momma

Stir together and stew over a weekend. Season with random tantrums, plenty of poo, mystery fevers and half a dozen loads of laundry.

You'll know it's done when everyone is wailing.

---

That horrible metaphor notwithstanding, we had a good weekend. When the kids aren't driving us crazy, they're both rather charming.

The Boy tells these epic stories about when he and his friends from school are older. When they're older -- like 5 -- they're going to have a house in California. And they're going to skateboard. And one girl is going to have leave, but then she'll come back. And Friendly Monster will come visit them. And they're going to buy big monster trucks because they'll have plenty of money -- this was after I told him he couldn't buy a toy at Target because he had no money -- and one boy will drive because he'll be 16.

Etc, etc.

Meanwhile, The Lad is trying to run and talk and figure out how everything works. He wakes up and immediately asks for "Buh," which we're pretty sure means brother. He loves to blow raspberries on my belly. His dimples just get deeper and his eyes bluer.

The crazy comes when The Lad flips out over whatever nonsense has offended his 1-year-old sensibilities and, over his screaming, The Boy is telling one of his endless stories demanding, "Right, Momma? Right? You're going to come visit? Hey Momma? Did you hear that? I said I was going to jump on the shark? Isn't that cool, Momma? Hey Momma? Is this right, Momma? Momma? Hey Momma?"

I know now why my mother used to threaten to change her name.

But I digress. I meant to count my blessings, because it was, despite my whining, a very nice weekend. I am thankful for a husband who picked out recipes and wine to commemorate the last major trip we took prekids, a trip to Barcelona in 2007. I'm thankful those recipes turned out as wonderfully as they did. I'm thankful for smart, happy boys. I'm thankful one of them is out of diapers. I'm thankful for a mom who likes to talk on the phone and plan vacations. I'm thankful for chocolate milkshakes and Target, peanut M&Ms and free cookies for kids at Publix grocery stores. I'm thankful for blue skies and perfect Florida weather. I'm thankful I don't have to spend February up north. (Sorry guys!)

I'm thankful to have had a weekend with my boys and also to go back to work tomorrow.

What are you thankful for this Sunday?

One month old

Today, our little Gizmo is a month old.

Just in the past couple days she has decided to let me sleep more. We were in a bad habit of eating every two hours through the night. The husband and I figured out a solution. She just needed swaddled. The angels sang and I didn't feel like losing my mind so much. She now sleeps much better going as long as four hours through the night.

She is just starting to give us open mouth gummy smiles. I get one a day if I tickle her cheek.

Her dark blue eyes are already growing a lighter blue. She will have her father's eyes even though the rest of her features seem to come from me, namely her cheeks.



Her hair is all anyone can talk about when we are out and about. She still has plenty although we have noticed it is thinning out.


I can't wait to see what the next month brings.

The worst so far

Just in the last week, The Lad has been cranky and difficult. We kept blaming it on a head cold we've passed around the house. But, staying home with him yesterday, as I watched him throw himself stiff-backed and red-faced against the floor because I would give him my laptop, I realized what the problem really is:

He's one.

Every parent has an age of childhood they can't stand.

My mother detests 4-year-olds. She swears it's a miracle my sister and I ever saw 5 and has threatened to shun all of her grandsons for a year after their fourth birthday. She's only half-joking.

Of course, you hear endless horror stories about the terrible 2s and the wretched 3s. Several of my friends say that anyone who can survive the first six months of a baby's life is going to be fine. (One in particular I'm thinking of was blessed with a vibrant and active baby, a darling boy who simply never wanted or needed to nap more than half an hour at a stretch. I understand why she was relieved to have him up and mobile and not needing her for entertainment.)

But if you ask me, 1-year-olds are awful.

Yes, yes. New toddlers have a lot of cute going for them -- that Frankenstein walk, the still-chubby thighs, the beginnings of language acquisition, the giving and receiving of hugs and high fives and slobbery kisses. The Lad's dimples and rat's nest of curls at the nape of his neck are the only things that saved him the other day.

Because good lord, that fit! Over nothing. Over a cup. Over a graham cracker. Over not being allowed to beat my laptop or eat my phone or toss himself head first over the side of the couch. He squalls until his eyes get red-rimmed and his face gets purple. He pitches himself into his blanky as if it's the end of the world. He walks after me like a zombie wanting to eat my brains only to pitch himself, stiff with rage, out of my arms.

The Boy was like this. In fact, he might have been worse. He would get upset over one thing and then work himself into a tizzy until, by the end of the fit, even he had no idea what the problem was. (I have NO idea where he gets this.) The Lad, at least, is slower to throw a fit -- which might be why it took me so long to realize these were tantrums and not just crankiness. He gets upset over silly things, however, he's single-minded about it. He gets angry and stays angry about one thing at a time, and that makes him slightly easier to deal with. I usually know what I need to distract him from.

But still. I can't wait until he's 18 months.

So, what age do you wish your kids would skip?

Helpful

Tired of all the crap toys strewn about our living room, I enlisted Peanut's help in cleaning up. This is how she helped.








We may need to revisit the concept of cleaning up. And possibly invest in some storage.

Questions

I am looking for your input on a few things:

1. What is the best book you have read recently?
I was on a good run of books at the beginning of my maternity leave but now I've started threes ones with disappointing results. The books I did enjoy included the Hunger Game series, The Kids Are Alright and One Day. I am looking for something in the genre of Meg Cabot or Jennifer Weiner - fluff but still a good read.

2. What is your go-to meal that makes everyone in the family happy?
I am cooking more now that I am home but I feel like I am making the same thing over and over again ... Usually chili, tacos with retried beans and breakfast for dinner, namely pancakes. I am trying a pork sirloin today.

3. For those of you in colder weather climates, how are you keeping your kids busy this winter?
Besides coloring, play-doh and the doll house, we've made things out of pipe cleaners, played with glitter and paint and watched movies - specifically the Shrek series, which has become a favorite in our house. Yes, we watch tv. And when we are particularly restless, we go to the mall or Target so Peanut can run off some energy and I can do some retail therapy.

PS thanks for the help on the nursing in public. I ordered a Bebe Au Lait one yesterday. It was on sale AND free shipping.

The girl in the scarf

Michelle was asking about nursing covers and breastfeeding in public.

True story: I've always wanted to be the girl wearing a scarf, but never felt like I could pull it off. Then, I had The Lad and started breastfeeding in public because I'm impatient and nosy and unwilling to leave a party. I used pretty scarves as cover ups and suddenly, I was the girl wearing great scarves.

Nevermind I was all covered in spit up and wearing a nursing bra. Whatever. I looked chic.

Breastfeeding in public -- much like wearing scarves -- is all about attitude, I think. You have to just not care and be confident that you're right. Here are some tips I wrote for BabyFit about breastfeeding in public, but that's the gist.

Other uses for scarves: peekaboo, small spit-up or snot clean ups, leakage coverage.

Baring it all

So how do you feel about breastfeeding in public?

Me? I can't do it. I think it is fine if others want to and I am impressed if they can do it without baring it all. I however have been unable to master nursing with discretion, which keeps me from doing it in public.

With Peanut, I usually just packed a bottle of expressed milk if I knew we would be away long enough. That worked fine but it did require a certain precision timing, something I don't necessarily have right now. With two kids, sometimes you just need to leave especially when it comes to planning around nap times.

We managed so far mainly because we haven't gone out much thanks to the cold (it was minus 9 when I woke up Saturday morning). But since I plan on nursing for a year, there will come a time when I may need to nurse in public.

How did you handle this? What were your tricks? I have looked at different covers but I am not sure which one would be the most useful.

Normal

The grandparents left Thursday morning. We celebrated being just our little family with movie night on Friday. We had a couple small events this weekend -- a book panel for me, a race for the husband -- and the usual errands: grocery and library and Target. We haven't been to a restaurant -- other than Starbucks, because c'mon, mochas are just good -- since Wednesday. We ate homemade potato leek soup and grilled cheese Saturday and fish and black bean tacos Sunday.

We're back to normal.

The Lad was obviously not well today. He slept in and then napped for four hours and then demanded to go to bed at 6:15. (And yes, that last bit is true. The Beast is a boy who knows what he wants. He tried to climb INTO his crib the other night at bedtime, and this evening, he wandered into his room, where I was talking on the phone with Michelle, yawned, fussed at me and pointed at his crib. Point taken.) But even that didn't disturb the peace. He was a bit feverish, but not enough to get me worried, just enough to be cuddly. The four us flopped on the couch and watched football. With the The Lad's warm back snuggled into my chest and his hot little hands rubbing my fingers, I dozed and listened to The Boy discuss the game with the husband.

Family visits always are nice. I do wish we lived closer. But it's so nice to just be us.

What made your weekend nice?

Potty training update

Can I just tell you how much you all Rock!?!

I whine about issues and in return I am given a plethora of wonderful advice. It just goes to show you, whine and you shall receive (or something like that).

So. We had an impromptu potty training session this week. Peanut agreed to sit on the potty. She insisted on having her undies on "just around her legs" she said as she sat there for about five minutes.

We told her if she used the potty that I would take her to the store and buy her something special. And then, the potty sang, a triumphant little ditty announcing our little girl had done exactly what we asked of her. She was soooo excited but it didn't match our excitement. The husband cheered. I danced around like a fool and began talking about going to the store.

Note to anyone who plans to do this: check the potty before getting too hyped up. The damn thing malfunctioned. There was absolutely nothing in there. Not a drop. Boo to you royal princess potty for getting our hopes up. Boo.

After that, Peanut decided she did not want to use the potty and begged and pleaded for us to put it away. I am still glaring at you, potty, for this. It is all your fault.

She did want to know when we would be going to the store to get her something special so we had to explain that she actually has to poop or pee pee in the potty to get something special. It has become our new Christmas. When she wanted something during the holidays, we told her she would have to ask Santa. Now we say "oh you want that toy/candy/cookie? Then you need to go poopy on the potty." I don't know how many people have heard me say this in stores this week.

So, I think we will be reviewing all the fabulous suggestions and creating a plan that makes sense for us. It will involve rewards and lots of patience. As I told the husband, very few kids go to kindergarten in diapers so at least we know she will be trained by then, right? Right?

The girls

Afternoon snack with baby sister ...






And she only tried to feed her baby sister crackers twice. Thankfully Gizmo's mouth was never open.

Bedroom only

The Boy, as I've mentioned, has a blanky, a dirty, stinky, disgusting blanky that he loves possibly more than me or the husband. He sucks on it when he goes to sleep and when he's upset or tired. It's been dragged through dirt and sand, peed and spit up on, and repaired more than once. At this point, it's so dirty, it stinks of spit and sweat even fresh out of the dryer. Stains spot the satiny back and the fuzzy top collects dirt and burrs and lint. It started out blue and green and yellow. Now it's mostly a grayish, brownish blue.

We've never made a big deal about the Blank because, though The Boy often brought it with us in the car, it rarely left the vehicle. He has never been the kid carting a blanket through the grocery store, though he was the kid going, "MY BLANK!" as if it were his long-lost friend instead of just a tattered rag he'd left 30 minutes ago in his carseat.

But finally, after stepping one too many times barefooted on slimy, spitty satin flopped in the middle of my kitchen floor, I decided it was time. The Blank needed to go -- sort of.

I told The Boy that when he turned three, the Blank would be a bedroom-only blanky. He could still cuddle with it in bed and visit it, if necessary, but the blanket had to stay in his room. I expected fights, and the day after his birthday, The Boy did fuss a little when I told him he either needed to remove the blanky from his mouth or get back into his bedroom. "But I neeeeeeeed it," he wailed. Ultimately, though, he was unwilling to let The Lad have time alone with Momma. Sibling rivalry has its uses. We also relaxed the rule one day -- a day The Boy refused to nap and needed one -- and allowed him to bring the Blank on a road trip, hoping he'd fall asleep at least for a bit and we would have an easier trip. It worked.

And the really nice thing about the bedroom-only rule: When he gets upset about something, I can order him to his room (thus, saving my ears and my patience from his ridiculous tantrum) without seeming like Meanest Momma Ever. I'm not punishing him; I'm sending him to his Blank for assistance.

Other than bedtime, I haven't seen -- or smelled -- the Blank in days. It's a wonderful thing.

So, what lovey did you wean your kid off? When did you do it and how?

Potty issues

I don't know if it is the overload of diapers thanks to the addition of another little diapered person in our house or what but I am done with Peanut and the diapers.

I'm ready for potty boot camp.

She is 2.5 years old. She is an intelligent, well spoken child for whom there is no reason that I am still changing her diapers. She even tells me when she is pooping but refuses to do so on the potty.

I've taken a hands off approach to potty training. I kept saying that when she is ready, she will do it. Now, I'm done with that.

We've been pushing potty propaganda for months now. Every time she threw a fit over a diaper change, we would tell her she wouldn't have to worry about it if she just used the potty. We pointed out all her friends who used the potty. We bought her cool Elmo, Tinkerbell and Mickey Mouse undies.

Nothing has made her ready.

The best of all, when Gizmo (yes, we are going with Gizmo for the baby) has a poopy diaper, Peanut gets indignant and says "Ewwwww. That's disgusting. She's a poopy butt baby."

Nevermind Peanut's poopy diaper I changed this morning that had leaked out and gotten all over the inside of her pants.

So, in the next few weeks while I am home, I think I'm going to put her in a dress in the morning with nothing on underneath and set her potty in the middle of the living room, reminding her to use it every 15 minutes or so.

How did you get your kiddo to use the potty? How old were they?

Update on sleeping

Because I blogged about the lack of sleep, the baby decided to sleep FIVE hours straight last night. Sleeping through the night technically. I woke up in a panic and very sore. But there she was, sleeping peacefully.

Of course she got up every two hours after that but those first five hours were terrific.

I have no hope of this being a trend but it was still very lovely.

Also, what do you think about Gizmo for a nickname? I figured it was cuter than Gremlin.

So very sleepy

You knew this post was coming. The obligatory "Holy Moses, will we ever sleep normally again?"

The baby (who I have taken to calling Gremlin but that seems to be as nice as hairy mongrel so I'm still open to nicknames) was a great sleeper for the first week. Slept 20 hours a day. Her second night in the hospital, she went at least 4 hours between feedings and went right back to sleep after a feeding. I should have known it was too good to be true.

Some nights a feeding and subsequent snuggle time before she sleeps on her own takes two hours. Some nights she wakes every two to two and a half hours for feedings. Since I am the only one who can feed her for now, I try not to bother the husband with getting up especially since he went back to work this week. He's offered to start giving her a bottle of expressed milk but I'm not ready for that.

Add to that an active toddler during the day and you have one tired momma longing for caffeine and sporting dark bags and a short temper. I do try to nap when the girls nap in the afternoon but even that hour doesn't seem to do anything for me.

I know it is early. I know we will eventually get more sleep (right?) But for the love of everything holy and pure, all I want to do is hibernate right now. For days. Maybe even a week.

What was your best trick for overcoming sleepiness?

Playing favorites

Another question for you:

How would you handle grandparents who consistently pay more attention to and buy more presents for one of your children over the other?

Do you ignore it or call them out on it? And if you say something, how do you approach it?

Birthday question

I'm asking this purely out of curiosity, because I feel pretty strongly about the birthday traditions we have for our boys and don't plan to change.

Still, I'm nosy. So, here's the question:

Do you do birthday parties every year or just on "big" ones, e.g. first, fifth, 13?

And a couple follow-up questions:

1. If you're a party-every-year family, how do you keep it from getting over the top? Or is that the point?

2. If you don't do parties -- or even if you do -- what other traditions do you have?

My answer:

We do parties for the big birthdays and family gatherings -- us and whoever is in town and/or our friend-family down here -- for the others. I fret too much about spoiling the boys. Also, especially because their birthdays are near Christmas, I worry about the amount of STUFF -- stuff they don't need -- and I've yet to figure out how to get people to skip gifts at a party. So, this is a good solution for me. It's also the way I grew up, so it seems normal. Birthdays are special, but they aren't extravagant.

Other traditions:

• The birthday boy -- or girl, when it's my birthday -- gets to pick what we have for dinner. The Boy picked scrambled eggs and toast this year, which tickled me. My grandma makes the best scrambled eggs ever, a skill my mom picked up and that I've mastered, too. They're comfort food for me, and I'm glad that they seem that way to The Boy.
• I always make homemade cakes or treats. (The husband wants granola bars this year.)
• Happy birthday! always is the first thing the person hears in the morning.
• Gifts are spread throughout the day.

Happy birthday, Boy!

The Boy was born on Jan. 11 at 12:23 p.m.

This was The Boy two years ago, when we first started this blog, on Christmas day.

This is this Christmas, a few weeks ago.

You expect babies to change drastically in their first year. They go from being lumps to being almost human in 12 months. It's amazing. As much as I anticipated that change -- in both my boys -- it still was fascinating and miraculous to watch.

What I never thought about before I had kids was how much they would change and grow after their first birthday. Somehow, it seemed I would have a baby and then, suddenly, I would have an elementary school-aged kid. After The Boy turned 1, he did seem to stall a little bit. His weight leveled off. I stopped having to buy him clothes every week (that kid was wearing 2T clothes on his first birthday) and, though his language exploded, the tantrums and willfulness that gave me fits leading up to his birthday stopped. I had it figured out, I thought.

And then one day I looked up and realized, Holy crap! This baby isn't even a toddler any more. He's walking steady. He's speaking in full, complex sentences. He's able to handle simple chores. He's eating like a person. He's asking questions about the world.

The Boy keeps sneaking up on me. Just last week I looked up and realized his head was above my countertops. When did that happen? He raised his arms up above his head the other night before bath and, for the first time ever in this child's life, I saw his ribs.

"Boy!" I said, "you have ribs."

"What are ribs?"

I read once that your oldest child always will seem just as old as he can be. That's how I feel about The Boy. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes it's bad. I have to be careful to temper my expectations to what is actually possible for his age.

He's such a sweet, smart boy. He wakes us up most mornings -- "Momma, the sun's up." -- and yells, "Hugs and kisses time, Daddyman!" when I put him to bed. He tells dramatic stories that go on and on and on. I put him to bed talking the other night. He makes up words. He named his triceratop pillow pet Chanker, whatever that means. He's whiny sometimes, timid sometimes. I called him intent as a baby; he still is. He thinks about things, asks endless questions and generally follows the rules. He's tricksy and funny and cuddly.

He's my favorite little monkey.

Postpartum randomness

I've never been the kind of person who looks forward to working out but this squishy tummy has me looking forward to it now. Just a few more weeks. I also apparently forgot the havoc that pregnancy wreaks on a woman's midsection because whoa.

Remember when I said the baby is a good sleeper? She is during the day. Great in fact. Will sleep four hours without a peep. At night, it is a different story. Feedings take a minimum of one hour and as long as two. I'm going on about five hours of sleep right now. I'm looking forward to this afternoon's nap. (That means everyone.)

Today is my first day on my own with both the girls. So far, so good. Peanut woke up in a wonderful mood and the baby has been cooperating for the most part ... except now because she's crying.

I can finally drive on my own tomorrow per doctor's orders. This is wonderful since I've been feeling like a caged animal.

Speaking of caged animals, Peanut is going back to the sitter's part time tomorrow. It should be good for everyone involved.

We spent four days in a row with my sister and her two munchkins. If I ever had a doubt about stopping at two children, I no longer will. I don't know how bigger families handle it. God love you. The kids aren't bad but that is a lot screaming and chasing and tattling and "I need juice," and "Now I need a snack." Two is enough for me.

Anything you would like to share?

Tired bits

I am scattered. I feel chubby and exhausted. The holidays have taken their toll. My house needs a thorough scrubbing. I need to get back to menu planning and out of the bad habit of last-minute grocery runs. We need to eat less meat and more greens and beans. My kids have to take baths more than once every three days. (Sadly, I'm not exaggerating.)

We got all off schedule because of Christmas and New Year's vacations. It should be easy to get back on, however, my in-laws still are visiting. They aren't staying with us, but their being here means more restaurants and more meat-and-potato sort of meals. It means less time to handle the usual round of lunch-making, cleaning, etc. Visiting usually takes precedence.

I'm not sure when they're leaving.

---

I love our pediatrician partly because he's been practicing for a long time. He's seen most childhood illnesses. He's calm by nature, I think, but experience has made him unflappable. He's soothing. He's obviously current on the newest recommendations and information, but he isn't rigid about anything. He has a sense of humor about being a parent -- his kids are grown -- and a patience I appreciate.

However, I think he must be nearing retirement. He's always off. Scheduling appointments is a pain. The boys were scheduled to have their annual check-ups next week, two appointments back to back, first thing in the morning. Only the office called and rescheduled "because Dr. W will NOT be in that early."

They gave me appointments at 11 and 11:30 -- just perfect for being inconvenient for everyone. I miss the standing meeting at work, the boys want lunch while they're at the doctor's office and, since I'd have to take them back to school right at nap, I might as well bring them both home. Fabulous.

---

On the upside of the in-laws' visit: The husband and I are going on a date Friday. Dinner and movie. He's made a reservation for 7 p.m., which means a late movie. Not sure how I'm going to stay up for that. I'm leaning toward seeing "True Grit."

What should we watch?

Stable

The second time around, I'm feeling much more together. With Peanut, I worried constantly, jumping up at every snort and snuffle over the monitor. If she cried out once, I was at her crib in a heartbeat, most of the time just to observe a peacefully sleeping baby.

I also cried. A lot. I remember sitting at the dinner table thinking about my mother, who was staying with us for a few days, leaving and I started sobbing. Everything made me cry for about two weeks. I'm a kind of gal who is prone to crying on a good day but even this was extreme for me.

Don't get me wrong. There have been some tears. Mostly tired tears or frustrated tears or feeling guilty because Peanut is going to grow up and turn to a life of crime tears because she has a little sister. But there have been far fewer tears overall this time. (Sidenote: I did almost have a break down the other night when my dad said something about this being the last grandchild for our family. Not that I regret our decision. Not that I want to be pregnant again. But when you put it that way, it is a little sad. Moving on ...)

I'm also not producing enough milk to feed a third world nation. With Peanut, my milk let down was painful because I had so much milk. I was soaking through shirts every hour and could pump 12-plus ounces in a five to 10 minute sitting. I eventually realized this was a blessing in disguise when I had more than 600 ounces of milk stored at the end of the maternity leave but not being able to go anywhere for fear of leaking all over the place was not fun.

This time, I still have a plentiful milk supply but it seems more regulated. I still should have a decent supply stored away for when I return to work but I don't worry about leaving the house. (Second sidenote: I used washable bra pads the first time around. This time, I'm using disposable. My recommendation? Use the disposable. They are sooooo much more effective by actually keeping my milk from leaking through.)

I feel more relaxed. More able to enjoy what is happening. I haven't even picked up my baby's first year book to consult if we are doing everything right.

It is so wonderful to see Peanut hold her baby sister. It is amazing to see my husband hold his daughter or look at pictures of him with his two girls. It is everything I hoped it would be to hold my baby girl and nurse her in the middle of the night (although can we get on a normal schedule, kiddo? Momma needs some beauty rest).

There is so much I wish I would have known the first time around. Moral of the story moms (especially first timers) try to worry too much with baby. Enjoy the little things. Don't google every little symptom. Trust your gut and relax. Everyone will survive.

Adjusting

We are all getting used to the new baby here. She's quite a pleasant baby, who only cries when she is hungry and sleeps most of the time. The only issue we've had so far is getting her to sleep in her crib at night. She seems to prefer the pack-n-play, which if she is sleeping at night, I'm fine with that. She does sleep better by herself during the day and needs a little holding at night, but the doctor said she should have her days and nights figured out soon.

Peanut luuuuuurves her baby sister. Loves her. Wants to hold her, see her, know why she is crying. The other day we were upstairs when the baby started crying downstairs. Peanut hopped up and said, "It's OK, Baby Maddie, I'm coming. Don't cry. Shhhhhh, shhhh. It's OK, I'm coming." It was priceless.

While we have no issues with how Peanut is behaving toward her little sister, we are having some issues with her behavior overall. She's extra whiny and prone to throw epic fits in no time flat. She tells us she wants one thing and when we give it to her, she throws a fit saying she doesn't want it but wants something else. When we give that to her, she reverts to wanting the first thing. It can be frustrating at times.

We are trying to keep her on a semi-normal schedule for now and spend alone time with her as well as incorporating her with the baby's activities. Some days are better than others. I admit, with sleeping no more than two hours at a time, my reactions to Peanut have not always been what you would describe as patient so I'm trying to work on that too and remember that she's only a toddler. Her world has been changed dramatically too. It's not always easy though.

How did you cope with the older sibling's reaction to the new baby?

Our family

It has been an adjustment but we are getting there.

By the way, anyone have a good nickname for Baby Maddie? The pediatrician at the hospital called her a hairy mongrel ... which I surprisingly wasn't offended by but I don't think it same ring as Peanut.

I can haz words

So, you know how I've fretted off and on all year about The Lad's speech or lack thereof? Well, in true Beastly fashion, he's gone from zero to 60 in the last couple weeks. Everything is balls to the wall with this kid. It wasn't enough to just roll over. No, he needed to roll all over my house. He couldn't just pull up. He needed to climb. And, since the week leading up to Christmas, he's gone from saying just a few words -- Mamamama, Dada and Whoa! -- to saying PHRASES.

"Haz dis? Haz dat?"

My child is an Internet joke.

He walked up to my father-in-law, who was holding a beer, and said, "Haz dat?"

He's also constantly pointing at things and saying, "Waz dis? Waz dat?"

Another favorite phrase: "'ook dis." (Look at this.) He usually says that while reaching for something dangerous or climbing something high.

This child is going to be the death of me.