. . . I know, I know! It’s insufferable, but I am powerless to stop. Because here’s what happens when you have a new baby: your mind becomes completely fixated on the job of keeping the baby alive. Your body becomes tensed from this job of keeping the baby alive to such a degree that you might find your left shoulder keeps creeping up toward your ear and forward toward the floor, not only while breastfeeding but in fact all the time, as if you must be hunched over like Igor in order to be physically prepared to tackle any and all issues that might threaten your ability to keep the baby alive at all moments of the day.
Yesterday Mini accidentally kicked the door with his foot, and the noise was such that I felt compelled to run over to the baby’s swing to make sure she hadn’t fallen out of it. And this is my second child. You can just be grateful I wasn’t a mommyblogger back when Mini was a newborn, because the posts would have been too much for you.
+++++++++++++++++++++
Mini is adjusting to the baby quite well, for the most part. He is very interested in the baby and kisses her all the time, and is even solicitous on her behalf, e.g. “Mommy, she’s crying. Help her. Right now. HELP HER!,” etc. I think he’s dealing with the massive adjustment to going from being number one for four and a half years to a big brother to a tiny baby reasonably well.
Except there was that bit where, last week, he tried to run away from home.
I mean, if you ask him about it, Mini will tell you that he just went out the front door and into the patio (while Mr. Right-Click was in the shower and I was feeding the baby) because he “needed space.” He was frustrated because he wanted somebody to play Ninjago with him downstairs, and nobody was available at that moment, you see.
The thing is: he knows he’s not supposed to open the door under any circumstances, and he has never tried to open the door ever, so neither of us even considered this as a possibility until Mr. Right-Click got out of the shower and heard muffled sounds of Mini crying, raced downstairs and found him on the front porch weeping. Apparently only one step was all he needed to regret his decision to go outside, particularly once he realized the door had locked behind him.
We’re installing a chain on the door, incidentally — before you get the urge to call CPS.
I wanted to have another baby in part so that we could teach Mini that he isn’t the center of the universe, so that he’d grow up to be a better citizen, you know — because I’m not particularly great at the parts of parenting where you have to say no to them or try not to spoil them, and I figured a sibling would teach this better than I ever could. The thing I didn’t realize was that the lessons Mini is learning would still be painful to watch, even as I know they are necessary. He will adjust, just like I did when I got a younger sibling, but there’s probably going to be a few bumps on the road.
Be careful what you wish for, I guess.
