Mommies don't get a day off. Ever.

Being that my birthday was coming up and on a Friday, I figured what better day to take off of work!  We pay for day care regardless, so I could have a quiet peaceful day all by myself.  Or at least 8 hours.  Earlier in the week, Bob's back went out again, so he would be home with me.  Okay, not what I had in mind, but not bad.  He knew I needed some time by myself, so he'd likely leave me be.  He even got up Friday morning and got the kids ready for day care and dropped them off.  Yay!  He came back home, I decided to take a nap.  The phone rings within the hour.  Bree is sick.  We need to come get her.  Is this really my luck?  Bob said no need for me to worry, he'd take care of her.  How can I not though?  Try as a mom might, it's nearly physically impossible to pass off your sick child to someone else's care, even if it is to their father.  Luckily though, she wanted to go to bed.  So off to naptime I went. 

Is it some law of the universe that moms are never allowed a day by themselves again once they pee on that stick?  While I don't know how day to day life is for other mommies, I can say it's hard to even make a potty run without one of the kids barging in.  Even if I am allowed a shower without no one pulling back the curtain on some days, the moment I turn the water off, Bree comes bursting in the door.  Not sure what she wants really, but it's almost like clock work.  And these days, even though Layne is almost a year, there are still probably more days than not where one of the kids wakes in the night, crying from not feeling well, teething, overly tired or just because.  So I am convinced there will no longer be such a thing as a full, solid night's sleep or taking a random vacation day to be by myself. 

The day may have not gone like I'd hoped, but all in all, it was a pretty good day.  Even with a sick child, at least I wasn't working!

Boys are different.

The title is self explanatory.  Or you'd think.  Do you have a boy?  Or boys, plural??  Wow.  No one could tell me what I was in for.  At least not like when we announced we were having a girl.  Everyone and their brother wanted to warn me of girls.  Because, as you know, I am not a girl, so I couldn't understand.  In hindsight, it seems people should have warned me of baby boys as indeed, I am NOT a boy.  This was hard to fathom. 

I am used to the drama of girls.  I am one.  I have one.  My cat and dog are girls.  I get it.  I've always been moody, so the mood swings are like second nature.  Not to say it's easy when Bree decides she's happy as a clam one minute, we tell her no for something and the world comes to and end.  No, that's not easy at all.  Okay, I admit, my sister-in-law did give me some sort of clue.  She said girls were easier (?) when they are young and boys are easier as they get older.  I should have known.  But how could I?

But Layne...we also call him Angry Baby at times.  He will be the happiest baby on the block as long as he's right next to mommy or in mommy's arms.  He will even play happily if distracted while I go out of the room.  Fantastic.  However.  It can all go downhill quickly with him.  Why did no one warn me of temper tantrums?  Well, to be fair, I know about them plenty.  But how could I know a tiny little baby is capable of such tantrums?  I half expect him to tear his shirt off as his color turns to green saying, "You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."  Throwing himself on the floor (from a sitting position, mind you).  Throwing himself back (whether he's being held or is playing).  I couldn't tell you the times this child has bonked his head.  And he's rarely phased.  We're debating on getting this kid fitted for padding to keep him safe from his own tantrums.

And the headbanging?  No one could tell me that baby boys find this fun?  Walls.  Sliding glass doors.  Metal patio table legs.  Shins.  What is going on here?  Someone please explain why this is fun to a boy!

We got incredibly lucky with Bree in that when we said "No", even as a baby, she listened pretty well.  We didn't have to put much out of her reach.  Do the whole baby proofing.  We started to, but quickly realized she either didn't realize all there was to get into or just didn't care.  She left things alone for the most part.  Then there is the tasmanian devil, as I lovingly call Layne.  Since he figured out how to move his little self, he has not looked back.  If it's anywhere near him, he's all over it.  And the more expensive, fragile, gross or dangerous, the more attractive it is to him.  Banging on the cable box to him is the best game ever.  We now not only have to put the bathroom trash up when we leave for the dog's sake, but it's up on a permanent basis for Layne's sake.  He loves to put toys and his pacifier in there.  This boy of ours is a non-stop ball of energy.  He even fights sleep, as if he's afraid he'll miss the chance to wreak havoc on just one more inch of our house.

At the same time that I am amazed by this whirlwind of boy who has entered our life, I am equally thrilled with this new love of ours.  For as much as he wears us down, our hearts are filled with more.  Layne is a momma's boy and I could not be happier.  I've always loved that Bree was a momma's girl and now she's shifting to be daddy's girl.  Maybe it's because so much of my time is taken with tending to her baby brother.  Maybe it's just nature for a girl to be so attached to daddy.  Who knows.  She will always be my baby girl and Layne is definitely and I hope always momma's boy.

Just because you know...

doesn't mean you have the slightest clue. This is one mantra moms...or maybe I should say parents, should live by. You've been there, done that. The second time around should be a piece of cake. Maybe there's that minor hurdle of having a child of the opposite gender to what you already have, but other than that, easy. You're a well seasoned mom now. Right? Silly mommy. Sure, you can offer advice on preference for bottles, which diapers worked best for you, even bedtime strategies. However, don't be fooled into thinking it'll all be the same for your second babe. With my luck, I figured pregnancy, birth (God bless you, epidural-inventor) and *knock on wood* up until now, our daughter has been fairly easy in all aspects, so I knew the odds were stacked against us. I had no idea how high those odds were. If a rougher pregnancy wasn't a red flag, I should have known by his birth this one wasn't going to be the most patient child. He was doing it his way and no one was convincing him otherwise.

This second child we've been blessed with has tested our patience. Don't get me wrong, we adore this little boy to pieces. He is the sweetest, cuddliest boy in the world. He just happens to know what he wants and refuses to abide by anyone else's rules when he's got his mind set. So when you get those two pretty lines announcing your second child is on his or her way, don't even toy with the thought that you know anything about parenthood.  Sometimes sweet, sometimes funny, sometimes you're at your wit's end.  No matter though, it's a wonderful, topsy-turvy ride.

The beginnings of mommyhood

How do other moms start out? No, I'm not talking how one physically becomes a mommy. Just where does it all begin mentally? You think you've got this whole thing figured out. Well, kinda anyway. The moment you see that second line or hear the nurse utter that infamous word, "Congratulations!", thoughts come rushing in. In time, it sinks in. Whether it's a surprise or well planned, you get this notion in your head...this ideal of what type of parent you'll be. I will not say that I knew exactly what I'd do once I became a mother. I took it on like I do most things - uncertainty. I couldn't even answer one of the questions an expectant mom is bombarded with countless times, "Are you going to breastfeed?" Not sure what would happen or if I'd be creeped out by it, my standard response was, "I'll try."

Reality hits quite differently, of course. Not in the sense that certain things you want or don't want go flying out the door, but just meaning mommyhood can hit you like a ton of bricks.

As labor looms, thoughts of love and adoration go happily skipping through your mind. You can't wait to hold your baby. Raise a child, showing him or her every ideal you feel necessary to go forth in this world. Then out comes the baby. Now I'm not saying I know how you felt in the hours following birth, but I do believe I'm far from the only person that was caught off guard in those hours, days, weeks after birth. You love that cherubic, scrunched up face. Spit up, blow outs and all. Maybe even more than you figured was possible. Maybe it even scares you as you try to figure out the extent of these conflicting emotions. This paranoia deepens when you leave the hospital to every other driver out on the road. Visitors come by your house and tell you to go lie down, they'll keep an eye on the baby. As tired as you are, you can't sleep for longer than 15 minutes. Your baby is oblivious to all but her bottle or your breast, but you feel as if the world will come to a screeching halt if you sleep for an hour. That's how it starts. Well, for one crazy mom.