A sibling splash

There's several reasons why the blog has been nearly silent over the last nine months. I'd like to address two of those reasons: Elle and Wesley.

While they're part of why I haven't blogged as much lately, they're the two biggest reasons why I am determined to get some key posts up - from an update on what Elle's been up to lately to a roundup of what we did at Christmas this year (I never said the posts were timely!), I have always used this space as a diary/scrapbook of sorts. And I hate that there are already gaps in the short history of my little family.

I wanted to capture a pivotal moment from last weekend before it escaped me. But first, some background:

I am one of four siblings. Tim is one of two. I always felt that I wanted to have more than one kid, but I was quick to mentally reign in my "Oh yes, three or four, for sure" to "Two would be good" after logically considering factors like finances, Tim's age, my sanity, etc. If Wesley had been a girl, there was a good chance we might have gone for No. 3 to see if we could add some male offspring to our brood.

And while this might be kind of illogical based on my previous statement, I resent the fact that people (both those who know us and complete strangers) assume we're done with two because we have "a perfect set." As if not having a boy and a girl somehow makes things less perfect. I've internally bristled at the "perfect pair" comments, because while it definitely contributed to our decision to stop at two, we weren't going to continue trying to have kids until we achieved a certain gender or number of "sets." Three is a lot more fathomable than five, six or "however many it takes to get a boy." It's true that we're done-zo on the procreation front, but my prevailing thought on stopping now is that we have two beautiful, healthy children. We can provide for them and enjoy life as a family of four. Our life feels complete now, and while I am in awe of the whole experience of creating, carrying and delivering these tiny beings, I've been fortunate enough to do it twice without any huge issue or complication. I'm thankful for that and always will be.

All that aside, having two kids is much, much harder than I ever expected. I know I've mentioned it, but those first few months had me wondering what we'd gotten ourselves in to. I'm sure having two small children is tough enough, but we're also 1,000 miles away from family and working opposite schedules, so adjusting and juggling things have been HARD. Emotionally and physically, I've been exhausted. For so long, I felt like I was constantly attending to a demanding newborn and therefore neglecting the needs of my oldest child. The guilt of that was heavy, even though I knew it was necessary and Elle wasn't going to grow up damaged just because I couldn't respond to her every request immediately for the first few months of her brother's life.

As Wesley has gotten older and slightly more independent, things have gotten easier to balance. I can actually make dinner while he sits nearby, happily playing, instead of trying to throw together a meal one-handed while he screamed. He's got a more predictable nap schedule, so we're not dealing with as many missed naps or car snoozes to get him shakily through another day. In general, he's a much happier, steady baby than he was 5-6 months ago.

On the downside, though, because he's nearly crawling and in to absolutely everything, Elle is constantly threatened by the stealthy baby swiping her stuff.  When she swipes it back, Wesley seems utterly confused as to why his previously perfect little universe has been rocked. (Welcome to the rest of your life, kids.) We know she loves him, though - she recently told us we couldn't get rid of him "because I yove him!"

I'm sure if we were to have more kids, we would adjust to life as "a family of ..." and soon feel like things had never been different. As it stands now, it's hard to remember life before Elle, and before Wesley. (Not impossible, as I often daydream of quiet mornings and solo shopping trips, but those are tradeoffs I happily accept in exchange for cuddles, giggles and priceless memories.) I'm told, and can easily understand, that adding a third or fourth kid is much easier than going from one to two. I'm still not super interested in doing it myself, but I can see the logic.

One of the ways things have gotten easier as Wesley has gotten older and gained basic skills (like sitting) is that I no longer have to juggle two baths. For the first few times of their dual bath, Wesley spent his entire bath grinning like an idiot, looking at me like "This is the best. thing. ever." The kid idolizes his big sister (although his adoration for our cats has recently taken priority over anyone and anything else). Elle kept asking me "Can the baby get out now?" Even though she spent the entire bathtime glaring at him (and me) as she repeatedly gathered up and cornered off all of the bath toys, Wesley was in absolute heaven. It gave me a glimpse of what life will be like for these two, almost exactly three years apart, as they grow up.

Although the initially awestruck reaction has waned, Wesley has still always enjoyed dual baths more than Elle, who has begrudgingly accepted that she has to share tub real estate every night. The bath ritual has become a sigh of relief for me, allowing them to entertain themselves for a while before we start preparing for bed. I try to keep the splashing to a minimum, play life guard to Wesley's unsteadiness and referee the bath toy hoarding by Elle, but it's a much more pleasant experience for all of us these days. Wesley's worst moods have always been cured by the bath, and as we've delved in to solid food, the need for a bath immediately after dinner has become vital.

Last weekend, we had a definite sibling turning point, as bath time was all giggles and splashing. As much as I hate getting covered in water, I just laughed as they copied each other, feeding off each other's squeals and claps over and over, and I permitted more splashing than my OCD-self can normally handle (water on the bathroom floor drives me a tad nutso). And then:

"Can he stay? I'm having fun with him!"

The rest of the evening was spent on Elle's bed, the three of us gathered around books. Wesley rolled around, laughing if we nudged him one way or the other, happy to be not only part of the game, but the actual physical vehicle of the fun. There was interactivity. There was a lot of laughter. There was enjoyment.

This bath time revelation came at a time when I kept wondering when the "magic moment" would occur, when the phrase of the week was "Don't push your brother over!" (to which Elle repeatedly responded "But I wanted him to lay down!"). 

I'm sure as they grow older, they'll rally together about how mean Mom was or reminisce about how Dad was always the fun one - I am lucky enough to know firsthand that the experiences, the bond, the friendships that siblings share are precious and lasting. These two share more than DNA. They'll grow up sharing toys, parties, indignation, successes and, most importantly, memories. They're good for us, but far more than that - they're good for each other. They will be each other's biggest enemies and biggest protectors. Their relationship will evolve constantly for at least the next two decades, and while they might not always be the best of friends, they've got a lifetime connection.

Yes, this bath tub camaraderie signaled a turning point for my kiddos, when Elle-worshiping Wesley went from adorable, loveable nuisance to accepted, pint-sized sibling playmate. And that makes this mama heart very happy.

Wordless Wednesday: Sibling love

Elle likes it when Wesley and I cuddle with her before bed. Normally, he's not completely zonked out like he is in these photos, but it was fun and sweet while it lasted!

Siblings: The first few weeks

Elle and Wesley's first meeting was not what I had imagined. Elle had been with several sitters during Wesley's birth, and her eating and sleeping schedule was off, so when they arrived at the hospital around dinner time on that first day, she was tired and hungry. Just before the arrived at our hospital room, Wesley had a huge blowout diaper, and it was shift change for the nurses. The nurses handed me a diaper and wipes and said they'd be back soon, but here I was, four hours postpartum and three years removed from diapering a newborn, not to mention nearly 15 years removed from diapering any boys, and I was face to face with an awful diaper.

As I changed Wesley, he screamed and screamed. I couldn't really blame him. He'd been sleeping most of the day and now I was wiping tar off his rear. Just as I was finishing up, Tim and Elle arrived. Elle looked horrified, managing to get out a disturbed "But why is he crying?" (a question she asks frequently, although she's now able to tune out most of his cries) at the sight of her baby brother. Things didn't get better as I stood up to throw away the diaper and wash my hands and Tim pointed out that I was bleeding all over the hospital floor. It was the first time I had stood up since I'd arrived in my recovery room, so apparently my body didn't like that. At that point, Elle was a bit freaked out - by the crying and the blood. Tim got the night nurse, who came in and helped clean up the blood, and Elle was pretty much over the whole "this is my baby brother thing." She never stopped telling anyone and everyone "I have a baby brother named Weswey," but she didn't seem as excited as she had been.

Opening her present from Wesley.

We ate dinner together and she occasionally asked why he'd been crying or why I was bleeding. She was extremely excited when we told her that Wesley had gotten her a present, and she could barely wait to open it. She was very happy about the bug books she received (similar to some that she reads at daycare and adores) and a Monsters University coloring and sticker book. But really? She was unphased by the grand "introduction to your new family member."

Kisses for her bro!

The next day at the hospital was a bit more of the same - he wasn't crying as much, so she was a bit more willing to look at him and touch his hand. When we came home from the hospital, we stopped to pick her up at daycare. She seemed thrilled to see me in the car, along with the balloons she had brought to us that morning, but she wasn't really interested in the fact that Wesley was in the carseat next to her.

When we got home and told her it was time to introduce her brother to the kitties, she seemed a little more enthused, but still, nothing huge. Her enthusiasm didn't really increase as she watched me nurse Wesley and change his diapers as Daddy took care of bath and bedtime for Elle (roles I handle 80-90% of the time). She wanted to be near him and wanted to bring him everything he might need - toys, blankets, etc., but if he started to cry, she wanted nothing to do with him unless she knew she could play an active role in "fixing" him.

Guess who added Wesley's accessories?

But over the last few weeks, Elle has totally embraced this big sister thing. For a few days, she was confused about the titles of "bro" and "sis" and called me sis and insisted that Wesley was "sis," too. But now she'll talk to Wesley and say "What's wrong, bro? It's me, sis" in a sweet sing-song voice. She constantly kisses him and is always quick to offer him a pacifier or rattle. She's been very well behaved around him (although extremely loud, in true toddler fashion), and she's almost always aware of where he is and knows to be gentle around him. She's helped with diaper changes and baths and even brings me my water when I'm nursing him and can't reach it.

These two are going to be best buds. And mortal enemies.

She's been inquisitive, asking about Wesley's boy parts and what he's doing while nursing, asking to help give him a bottle. She even started to nurse one of her stuffed animals last week - when I asked what she was doing, she said "Giving him milk." I nearly died with pride and from the cuteness.

She's been amazingly sweet and caring, too. The other day we were about 10 minutes from home and Wesley started screaming at the top of his lungs. I knew he was hungry, and I knew that he was going to have to wait. Elle tried to comfort him, telling him "It's OK, bro," and nearly killed me with cute when we pulled in to our complex and she said, "We're home, bud." She gives us a play-by-play on what's going on in the backseat, too - "He's crying!" (duh) and "Mommy, he's sucking his fingers!"  She likes to hold his hand and give him kisses, and she's always super excited when I pick her up at daycare and bring him. She gets very defensive, too, if the other kids at daycare try to touch or talk to "my Weswey!"

Elle's 'Weswey'!

We've tried really hard not to "blame" Wesley for things, like telling Elle we can't do something or she can't have something because of Wesley. I try to phrase things so that we'll do or have something after Wesley is done eating or when we're all ready to leave the house - I don't want her to be bitter. She's had a few moments of pretending to act like a baby or talking about going potty in diapers, and I always try to point out all of the perks of being a "big girl," like eating real food and not having to sleep all the time. So far, she's handled things extremely well. I think I've been more upset about some things than her, like not having as much patience or one-on-one time for the two of us. I've tried to make it a priority to do as much as possible just like we used to or take her out for errands, just the two of us. I've also gobbled up my alone time with Wesley.

Tim and I still find ourselves laughing whenever we say something about "the kids," like "I'll take the kids so you can grab a nap" or "I'll take both of the kids to the doctor's appointment." It still seems kind of foreign that we're responsible for two little humans now. For me, the hardest part is being there physically for Wesley but emotionally for Elle. Since Tim works nights, I'm on my own five times a week for bath time and bedtime. My mom was here last week and was able to help out a lot - I could give Elle one-on-one time and my mom could make sure Wesley was taken care of. But now my mom is gone, Tim is at work and things can get rough. I do not find it enjoyable to balance a nursing newborn in my arms as I pull up the underwear and shorts of my boisterous toddler with one hand. I do not enjoy making dinner with Wesley's screams and Elle's constant stream of "Why? Why? Why?" as my background noise. But we're adjusting, and we're managing.

Elle has been great about it all - there have been nights that I've dressed her in her pajamas as Wesley has screamed his lungs off right next to us, and she hasn't complained. There have been nights that I've read her bedtime story while nursing Wesley and haven't been able to cuddle with her - part of our normal bedtime routine - and she's been a champ about it. There have also been nights that I've ducked in and out of bath time to check on him and her and found myself in tears trying to be everywhere for everyone.

The first few times that we were out and about with Wesley, Tim said he kept waiting for him to take his arms out of the car seat straps like Elle does, haha. It's funny how fast you get used to something and how foreign this newborn thing is even just three years removed from our last (first!) experience with a newborn.

Sibling musings.

I was going to post this one tomorrow, but for the next 15 minutes it is still National Sibling Day, and that seems very appropriate :)

I was telling Tim a few weeks ago that I absolutely love the fact that Wesley seems to be awake every night when I'm putting Elle to bed. I love that I can feel him kicking as I read to her, and it makes me think about how bedtimes in the future will be - when they both gather around to hear a bedtime story, when they giggle to each other as they fight sleep.

I had gone through the possible scenarios several times in my mind before our gender ultrasound - Elle with a little sister, Elle with a little brother. Since I have both a big sister and (two) younger brothers, I could relate to either situation. I had no preference, but I think I was more emotional about it than Tim because he has a younger brother, and that's all he knows.

My older sister, me and my oldest younger brother ...
my sister was 11, I was 7 and my brother was 5. Doug was -10 :) 

I'm 90% sure this is our last pregnancy. I was about 80% sure before I found out we were having a boy, but now I'm more sure, knowing that I'm carrying the son that Tim has always dreamed of, knowing that because Tim is almost 13 years older than me I never expected to be having kids for years and years, and knowing that financially, two kids is probably a comfortable number. I'm not ruling out the possibility of a third kid some day, but I don't think it's likely. As one of four kids, that makes me a little sad, but mostly, I'm excited about our kids and the bond that they'll share.

About 10 days before our gender ultrasound, Elle and I were playing in her bedroom, and we were talking about my grandma. There's a photo in Elle's room of me, Elle and my grandma, taken when Elle was about 10 weeks old, during the first and only time my grandma got to see her. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but I told Elle that Grandma Rene's sister had surgery that day and I was praying for her and her family. I found out a few hours later that my great aunt had died - there had been complications during the surgery. I was extremely emotional that night, thinking of my cousins, who had lost their mother or grandmother, and my great uncle, who had lost his wife. I was sad that another key member of my family was gone, and sad that I was 1,000 miles away and unable to be with my family during a time of loss and grief.

But I also thought about the bond that my grandma and great aunt had shared, and that got me thinking about the relationship my sister and I have, and the tie between sisters in general. I cried a lot that night, thinking about what an amazing woman my great aunt was, recalling how she and my grandma were such strong personalities, finding peace in the fact that they're together again. It brought back a lot of the emotions I had when my grandma died. It also reminded me of just how important family is, and the fact that I was carrying part of Elle's family.

As Elle and I talked about Grandma Rene and her sister that night, I tried to explain the bigger concept of siblings to her. I told her that Mommy has a sister. She told me that Daddy has a sister named Mackenzie (not true, haha). But I tried to introduce the concept of "You might have a sister, too. Or a brother."And then once we found out we were having a boy, it took her a while to stop referring to the baby as "my little sister, Wesley."

A few weeks ago: Elle using my baby bump/her sibling as an arm rest.

I'm extremely excited that Elle is going to have a little brother. SHE'S extremely excited that she's going to have a little brother. I treasure the relationships I have with my little brothers, and they have always looked out for me, even though they are 23 months and 17 years younger than me, respectively. I remember lots of things (good and bad, haha) about growing up with a brother close in age. These are the memories I hope Elle and Wesley will have, too. Going through high school is hard enough, and having a sibling two years younger than you in almost all of the same extracurricular activities as you can sometimes feel stifling. At the same time, it was nice to always know where my little brother was, to share groups of friends, to know that some of my fondest memories of band, baseball, newspaper, etc. involve him. After we both went off to college, I think we got closer, as we were both able to find our own places in new surroundings and appreciate the friendship that we shared as siblings. As an older sister to younger brothers, I know that Elle and Wes will share a special bond.

Celebrating my brother's 23rd birthday :)

My youngest brother and I have always been close, as he is very much a "mini me." I was in the delivery room when he was born. Since I went to college close to home, I was able to be around him a lot during his toddler and little kid years, and we have lots of fun memories - road trips, special outings, etc. Things that I'm glad to have shared with my little brother, and things that I will always remember as part of our special relationship.

My youngest younger brother and I at our sister's wedding in 2000.

But I'm also a little sad that Elle is probably not going to have a sister. She won't have that bond that my grandma and great aunt shared. There were definitely a lot of days when my sister and I did not like each other - times when I'm sure she thought I was a pest, times when I thought she was intolerant of a little sister who was following in her footsteps so closely I was practically tripping over her. But I completely idolized my sister and am grateful to her for a lot - from letting me come stay with her during Little Sibs weekend at college to letting me have emotional breakdowns on her couch years later.

Sister sister, August 2008.

We're four years apart, so we didn't always share a closet, but we share a friendship that is unlike any other relationship in my life. For three decades, she has been a built-in best friend - one that I don't have to worry about losing because of distance, life experiences or petty things. She offers me encouragement, sarcasm and doses of reality when needed, and we've shared a lot of awesome experiences (from her helping me plan a wedding from 1,000 miles away to running a half-marathon relay).

Procreation: A thought process

First, a note: I am on a mission to catch up on the ridiculous amount of posts I have started ... I find that in the little time after I put Elle to bed, if I'm near the computer I'm usually answering e-mails, paying bills, etc. And when I start mentally composing posts, I lose steam by the time I can start to type it out. But I suffered a near deathly stomach virus this week (well, I certainly thought I was near death) and had some time to think. I realized that it really bothers me to have these nearly finished, unpublished posts, even if they are no longer as timely as they were when I started them, and I have vowed to myself to try to just finish them off and start with a clean slate. So if you feel like I'm slamming you with a lot of heavy/stupid/rambling posts, let's blame the sickness and move on, all righty? 

* * * * *

Around the time that Elle turned one (you know, almost A YEAR AGO), *the* question was asked frequently - some form of "So, when are you going to have another?"

Depending on who asks, I sometimes feel violated, like they've crossed a line. I mean, they assume we want more kids (we do). And they assume I feel comfortable talking to them about it (I usually don't).

These things seem to follow a natural progression - it's the follow up to "When are you going to have kids?" which is the sequel to "When are you going to get married?" The questions never stop.

If my mom friends ask, it's OK with me. It's like they're peeking in to a shared little secret chamber of life plans and timelines. Sometimes we have similar plans, other times we don't. There are the mom friends who have a kid Elle's age ... and have another or are pregnant with their second child already. Or the mom friends who have a kid Elle's age ... and are waiting for a few months or years to have another. Some have the similar reasoning - sibling spacing, finances, career concerns, space issues, etc. Others have different considerations - they want a lot of kids, or they're considered to be of advanced maternal age, or they just want their kids to be close in age.

When I imagined my life as an adult, I figured I would be married for a few kids, then have 3-4 kids, 2-3 years apart. But then I actually started to live my life as an adult. And being an adult is expensive. And my husband is almost 13 years old than me. So these factors made me reconsider. Perhaps 2-3 kids, 1-2 years apart?

I didn't want to wait and delay a family too much, so we started trying to conceive after being married just shy of two years. We were fortunate to get pregnant rather quickly, and thus our journey began. I read a lot when I was pregnant with Elle and in her first year of life. One of the things that I read involved "optimal spacing of pregnancies." I've also heard that it takes a woman's body 2-3 years to fully recover from a pregnancy, from healing to replenishing nutrients vital to both a placenta/fetus and the mother. There is also the whole I-didn't-really-feel-ready-physically-or-mentally thing, which bottom line, is my biggest consideration.

I thought I'd want to try to get pregnant soon after Elle turned 1. But I didn't. I feel like we've got enough going on and are still treasuring Elle's early years and trying to figure everything out - how would another kidlet affect the unbalanced balance we've got going on? If we got pregnant today, we'd be ecstatic - but we're not trying. And the longer we wait, the more I feel like two kids might be our magic number. I reserve the right to revisit that decision (and I think Tim could go either way on it, too), but I'm feeling less torn by my internal debate of "should we have two kids? or three?"

Over the last few months, I've definitely gotten more comfortable with and excited and nostalgic about the idea of another pregnancy, another baby. Going through Elle's baby clothes definitely made my biological clock tick a bit louder. The pregnancy announcements of several friends has given me a bit of baby fever. The arrival of new babies born to friends makes me remember the first few weeks of Elle's life. My brother just welcomed his second child - his first son - in to his family, and I love that Elle has little cousins (although they are on the other side of the country) that she can grow up "with."

Tim and I often talk about how we were lucky to get an easy baby for our first ... but it also makes me a) hope we're lucky again and b) terrified we won't be. Elle slept well pretty much from the beginning. We didn't have any trouble breastfeeding. She didn't have colic or any health issues. She's very rarely has a diaper rash, eats like a champ, hasn't had to go to the doctor aside from well baby visits. We've been extremely blessed. Our biggest stress has been childcare, and whether we had two or five more kids, that would still be just as much or as little of a problem as it would be with just Elle. But while I know we could handle the challenges of a baby who has food allergies, refuses to sleep at night, etc., I have to admit it scares me a bit. 

The emotions, the anticipation, the journey of another pregnancy - I'm looking forward to it. (The morning sickness and exhaustion, not so much, but whatever.) I look forward to feeling baby flips, kicks and hiccups again. To telling friends and family. To seeing our baby grow and develop via doctor's appointments and ultrasound(s). To seeing Elle around a little brother or sister (and for a toddler who doesn't like baby dolls and has only recently started to show any interest in human infants, that one could go either way).

Tim and I have thought 2.5-3.5 years apart would be good spacing for our kids. I've been told that the longer we wait, the harder it will be for Elle to adapt to another sibling. I've also heard people argue the other side - that having kids close together is optimal. Really, I think a case could be argued either way, and we have our reasons for our thought process.

My siblings with Tim and I on our wedding day.

My sister and I are four years apart, and I don't think she harbors any long-standing animosity toward me for ruining her "only child" world. One of my brothers is 23 months younger than me, and while we definitely had rough patches growing up, it wasn't always awful. While he might not agree, I like the fact that being two grades apart yielded similar activities and some overlapping groups of friends - we were in band together, he played baseball for the team I was a statistician for, etc. The surprise sibling in my family is 17 years younger than me - and even that gap has pros and cons.

Young Tim and Todd :)

Tim and his brother are about two years apart. Tim had a built-in teammate and thinks the fact that he had competition - in sports, academics, etc. - was a good thing.

For all of the good and not so good (again, morning sickness dread), I definitely hope that we're graced with the chance to experience it all at least one more time. I feel like once we get pregnant, it's going to go super fast. There won't be the time to dream of how to decorate a nursery, plans for a baby registry, etc. This isn't our first time at the rodeo - but that's why it will be all the more fun, exciting and challenging, with knowing what to expect but not knowing what to expect at the same time. 

We're not jumping on the baby train just yet, but I do sometimes find myself thinking of the future in terms of "If I was pregnant ..." or "If we had two kids ..." A year ago, I would not have been ready to even contemplate having another. And there are days when I can't imagine where the energy will come from to take care of two kids. There are moments when I realize how much stuff we have in our small condo that belongs to Elle and realize that it will only increase with another kid. But I also keep in mind how much joy that little girl has brought to so many people. And I remember how magical the whole experience is, fatigue and nausea and labor included. I've managed to forget the pain of labor and only vaguely recall how difficult it is to function when I don't get good, consecutive sleep.

All this being said, I've got about four future kids named and about a half dozen fun ways to reveal a pregnancy just waiting for a need to be used :)