Under Two Weeks Left!

We had to buy another dresser for "the boys."  The only problem is that the new dresser, a larger, taller model, does not fit into the boys' bedroom with the crib, the twin bed, the baby dresser, and the reading chair and has been placed in the hall outside the bedroom, in a nook across from the bedroom right by the bathroom.  My blood pressure spikes every time I see this dresser.  It's not only that dressers clearly do not belong in hallways unless you're living in a crowded halfway house with a slew of recovering drug addicts- it's that putting the dresser out in the hall boldly announces that we have run out of room and given up any pretenses of attempting to keep things even relatively nice.  It's over.  The baby hasn't even been born yet, and already the house is too small.  I just hope we have enough room for all the wine and salami I intend on buying post-baby.

I moved all of Andy's clothes out of the baby dresser and into the larger "hall dresser" this morning.  I felt like Mean Mom, kicking Andy's clothes out of their home and out into the inconvenience of the hall.  Doesn't my eldest son deserve better than this- to be able to pull out his favorite Spiderman shirt without traipsing half naked into the hall?  I tried to console myself as I did this:  Andy doesn't give a shit where his clothes are kept, I'm sure.  I could keep his stuff in cardboard boxes out in the garage near the motor oil, and he wouldn't think anything of it.  Actually, he might find it exciting, getting dressed in the garage near all of his favorite garage things (toy lawn mower, sidewalk chalk, the garbage bin that smells like a blend of poopy diapers and disappointment.)  But, to me, it's symbolic, as I make room for baby by rearranging the things that belong to Andy.

Two children.  Yikes.

Strangely, as the clock works its way closer and closer to Baby Time, I think Andy is starting to get it.  We set up the baby cradle in our bedroom a week ago, and Andy noticed it right away the next time he came into our room, pointing at it and stating, plainly, "Baby."  I gushed, "That's right, Andy, the baby is going to sleep there!"  To which Andy replied, "Baby."

Then, the other morning, I was folding my laundry and came across one of Andy's blankets, which I thoughtlessly tossed into the baby cradle.  We bought the new baby new blankets since Andy is territorial about his blankies (plural, thank God- he's satisfied as long as he has any of his seven blankets and has never fixated on just one.  He's so mormon that way.).  I should have known better than to toss one of Andy's blankets into the baby's cradle, but I'm glad I did, because this is what happened:

Andy came into my room, saw the blanket in the cradle, and said, "Baby," his new, daily acknowledgement of the cradle.  Then he exclaimed, "Mine!" and ran to retrieve his blanket.  THEN, he went off into the closet where the dirty clothes tend to pile up, grabbed a bath towel from the floor, and came out and tossed it into the cradle.  "Baby," he said, satisfied that he had retrieved HIS blanket- but also, sweetly, found a replacement item for the baby.  Even if that replacement blankie was a grungy old bath towel smelling vaguely of dirty feet.

This made me proud at Andy's thoughtfulness, and I was immediately flooded with visions of Andy getting "things" for the baby.  Sure these things might be, let's say, an unwashed, sour smelling bottle for feeding time, or a pointy fork as a replacement toy should the baby reach for one of Andy's toys- but it's something.  It's Andy's way of saying, "Here- let me get something for the baby."  It's saying, "What the baby has is MINE- but I'm totally willing to get him something ELSE."  And as a mother of a toddler who likes things that are HIS- this is actually pretty good.

I'll take it.

I've been asking Andy if he's excited for the baby.  He says yes.  I've been asking if Andy wants to help Mommy with the baby.  He says yes.  I've been asking if he's going to kiss the new baby and be a good big brother.  He says yes.  Then, just to make sure he's paying attention, I've also been asking him questions to which I know he should be answering no.

Do you want to eat three pounds of peas for dinner?

No.

Do you want to go to bed early tonight?

No.

Are you a registered member of the NRA?

No.

So, maybe he gets it.  Maybe he is excited about the baby.  Maybe, just maybe, this will all be okay.  Ish.

I am getting excited, too. The excitement is starting to edge out some of my nervousness, which is a relief.  I get to have another baby soon!  We get to be a family of four!  I get to hold and kiss and hug a new little boy and it will be even better than the last time, because now we will have my first little boy to share it with.  Oh, and I get to NOT be pregnant anymore.  And, have I mentioned that I don't have to go to work anymore?  I'll be living the life!  No job and two kids!  That IS the life, right?

Time will tell.  And that time is NEARLY UPON US.  Stay tuned!