You’d think now that we have a one year old and a two year old, things would be easier. And you’d be mostly right. It’s definitely easier than a one year old and an infant. Most days we’re having fun, and have a pretty good routine.
However.
There are still those days. You know the kind. When for no obvious reason, things are just hard. We still have those days. We’ll probably always have them, but I’m hopeful they’ll become less frequent at least.
G is a very different baby than E was. Two years in, we feel like we understand our toddler pretty well. We know how to comfort him, how to put him back to sleep if he wakes up, what makes him happy and what doesn’t. And it’s lead us to a false sense of confidence that we know babies/children in general.
But G is a very different baby.
A few random stories that I want to remember, but aren’t really related beyond that:
…..
E has a new(ish) teacher in his room, and he has slowly but surely winning her over. She’s pretty quiet, so it’s taken me a bit longer to get to know her, and get a read on her. She was asking me a few questions about him recently which left me wondering if she was worried about his speech. I was talking to Tom about it, and mentioned that she kept asking about what he can say, and seemed surprised that he couldn’t say his name. To be clear, Tom and I aren’t worried. But the conversation led me to believe that maybe she was.
I’ve been dreading it since G was born. I knew there would be a time when they needed me at the same time, and I couldn’t be there for both of them. I’ve been lucky so far, just skirting by, getting one calmed minutes before the next one started crying.
My luck ran out this week. The night started off great, though. There weren’t any tears on the drive home from daycare, G slept in his car seat while I fed E his dinner. It was almost too easy. But then G got hungry earlier than I was expecting. A few days earlier when I had sat down to feed the baby, E was free to run around the house while I was trapped, and it ended with him happily eating food out of the trash. So I decided to try and avoid that this time, and hearded E upstairs. We have a baby gate across the hall that blocks off both of the kid’s bedrooms, which allows him freedom to run around but stay safe and not get into too much trouble.