Dear Second Child

To my sweet second child Everett,

I am so glad you are a part of our family! I love that I am your very favorite person in the whole world (except when I don’t enjoy being loved so much because I would like to use the bathroom without you crying). I love all of the snuggles (again, except when I REALLY need to use the bathroom). I love watching you and your older sister begin to play with one another. I love getting to watch you learn to do new things, like crawl and pull yourself up, even if it is earlier than your sister did and causes small panic attacks. I love that you are already so different from your sister, and I can’t wait to see what kind person you will be like one day!

20160619_203324

Not only are you different than your sister, but I am a slightly different mom to you than I was your sister. For that, I would like to say I am sorry.

I am sorry for the lack of “official” photos. With your sister, I started strong with WEEKLY photos in the same white shirt/onesie on the same adorable quilt. For you, I have EPICLY failed to even capture monthly photos. Forget about the same shirt. Your clothes probably aren’t even clean in the picture. Of course, of the picture I do have there is a good chance your sister is also in them. Again, so sorry buddy.

20160607_184457

I am sorry that you have to cry a little more to get my attention. It’s not that I enjoy making or hearing you cry. It is just that the toddler crying and whining and disciplining needs to be addressed first a lot of times. There are also times when I just really need to use the bathroom. I do not have the ability to hold my bladder like I did with your sister. I have also learned that babies will not die if left to cry for an additional thirty seconds, but I WILL pee on myself if I don’t go to the bathroom NOW. Sorry buddy.

I am sorry I didn’t lay on the floor talking to you during tummy time like I did your sister. I was too busy making sure the toddler didn’t step on you, lay on you, sit on you, feed you goldfish, smother you with blankets, choke you with unwanted pacifiers, or wallop you in the head with wooden blocks. Sorry buddy.

20160527_192520

I am sorry your room still isn’t completely finished. I know you are obviously traumatized as a nine ten month old by this. I was busy. It hasn’t killed you yet, so it is still unfinished. Maybe you should cry more about it.

I am sorry you have to wear a pink swim hat at the pool because you get hand-me-downs occasionally from your sister. I have just realized more that no one really cares if my son wears pink because I choose not to spend money on something when I have a perfectly good *insert ABC or D here* but it just happens to be in a society-dictated girl color.

20160531_104940

I am sorry I didn’t read 47 books on how to care for your second child before you arrived. I didn’t read a single book. I am not sure how I have manged to parent without all of the “experts” advice this time.

I am sorry your first birthday is only two months away, and I have absolutely no idea what we are doing. I have not spent hours on Pinterest that past six months ferociously planning your big day. Forgive me for taking time to do silly things like eat, shower, sleep and watch American Ninja Warrior (sorry, not sorry). **Correction – we do have a theme. No idea how I am going to do it, but we will call it progress none the less**

20160530_101912

I am sorry I didn’t not spend two months researching and planning out what your first food would be, nor did I make you any homemade baby food or special Baby Led Weaning, perfectly sized, healthy spinach and egg muffins. Instead, I put a Pea Crisp on your Bumbo tray for entertainment during lunch thinking you wouldn’t possibly actually get it into your mouth because you weren’t that coordinated yet.  Then, only moments later do I see you immediately stick said Pea Crisp into your mouth and smile with joy. I am pretty sure Reagan didn’t get anything processed for a solid three or four months after starting table food, and your first food was a glorified potato chip. You are welcome.

I am sorry I don’t panic and run every time there is something in your mouth. I sweep the kitchen daily and vacuum two or three times a week, but there is always food on the floor thanks to your sister. I just pray it is food and move on. So far you haven’t choked or been close to death, so it goes in the parenting WIN column. I am sure mulch is good for the gut anyways. I mean, it’s all natural!

20160627_091257

I am sorry I exercise daily now instead of just a jog with the stroller two or three days a week. I am sorry those workouts aren’t always baby wearing friendly as you would like. I try to do them before you wake up, so if you would just sleep until 6:30 everyone would win. The baby weight after you were born required a lot more effort to get gone. Eight weeks postpartum, and I was down a very depressing eight pounds. You weighed seven pounds and fifteen ounces, so thanks for that.

I am sorry one of your 1st Birthday gifts is going to be the gift that I fully intended to make and give to Reagan for her 1st Birthday, but didn’t finish in time. You can get mad at me later about that one. Fair enough.

20160529_202250

There is one thing I am not worry about – the fact that you are SO loved and adored by us and your sister. Sure, you have absolutely no idea how to entertain yourself because Reagan does that for you, but SHE LOVES YOU!! You will always have a protector, a playmate, and a forever companion. For that you are very welcome, Everett!

Love,

Mom

 

 

 

Advertisements

One thought on “Dear Second Child

  1. Pingback: Nana’s Old House – NANA'SOLDHOUSE

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s