Found Time To Write A Post!

The heat wave is set to expire tonight at seven.  It's been a rough week (or more?) of triple digit temperatures and/or heat indexes.  I can't wait to be able to throw the baby in the stroller, throw the Andy in the stroller, and be able to take a walk to the park.  Alex has not left the house enough.  Of course Andy didn't leave the house until he was four weeks old, but that's the difference between your first baby and your second.  You shelter your first baby and worry about everything.  Your second?  It's different.

Andy's bottles were washed and sterilized after every use. It was a time consuming process involving a product that plays upon every new mother's fears:  If your baby comes in contact with a single germ, he will implode.  Alex's bottles, however, are just washed.  No sterilization because this time around; it seems dumb and pointless.  So far, luckily, he has not imploded.

I woke Andy after four hours if he had not eaten.  With Alex, if he sleeps longer than the four hours, my first thought is "Sweet!" and I proceed to have a cup of coffee/ slice of cake/ salami sandwich in order to celebrate my good fortune of having a sleeping baby.  Who in their right mind wakes a sleeping baby?  A sleeping, almost nine pound, healthy baby?  A shmuck, that's who.  And I, sir, am no shmuck.

Chris and I documented Andy's feeding and diaper changes for a solid month.  Nine AM, wet, hot poop, followed by three ounces of formula.  Twelve pm, wet diaper, two and a half ounces, followed by an amazingly loud burp.  Etc.  Why, I don't know.  This time around, we halfheartedly started documenting Alex's diapers and feedings, but the list is literally one line.  Two-thirty, three ounces, BM.  That's it.  It's not like documenting feedings and poops will make the baby feed and poop better.  So, what's the point?  Our way of keeping track is, "Hey Chris, did you feed the baby yet?"  And, "Wow, that's one stinky diaper.  Your turn to change it, I'm busy trying to keep Andy out of the dryer."

It's sad, but I have not held Alex as much as I held Andy.  I held Andy non-stop.  I held him all day, while he napped and while he was awake.  I held him while I ate my dinner, I held him while I piled laundry into the washer.  I held him until my arms ached.  This is why the little booger is such a mama's boy.  With Alex- I WANT to hold him ALL DAY- but I can't.  You can't hold your newborn when you have an (almost) two year old.  I mean, you get your fair share of holding him- but it's really not enough.  It's not the same. And so your second born is a little more used to the swing, the bassinet, and Daddy.  Which is all fine and good and the way it has to be so that Andy gets his fair share of attention- but, man.  When you have your first baby, enjoy the holding.  It's not going to be the same with the second.

I think Andy has started getting used to the new life.  He has calmed down ever so slightly in the past two weeks since he has transitioned from day care to being at home.  It's a slight difference, but I've noticed.  He is totally fine with the baby, although I must admit that he has head-butted Alex once, kicked him in the head twice, scratched him once, and sat on his feet twice.  Whoops.  These were all accidents and not malicious and certainly nothing hard enough to damage my Alex permanently (I can only assume), but Andy, while he mostly understands the concept of gentle, is still a rambunctious toddler who just doesn't understand how truly fragile a newborn is.  He has what Chris politically correctly calls "retard strength."  He doesn't know how strong he is compared to Alex and doesn't always get it.

Andy meeting Alex was best described by what my friend Brian calls "the most emotionally underwhelming moment of (my) life."  It's so funny- I expected some big, memorable moment when Andy came charging into the hospital room the day Alex was born- but it wasn't really that memorable.  It was just Andy coming in to say hi to me and look, with a small amount of interest, at his little brother before moving on to explore the hospital room.  This is not necessarily a bad thing.  A little half-curious, half distracted interest is better than a lot of angry, jealous interest.  I will always remember, though, when the nurse came in to prick Alex's heel to check his blood sugar- and the glare of anger and disapproval Andy gave her.  Someone was making Alex cry- and Andy was NOT happy about that.  "Not nice, nurse," I'm pretty sure he said.  Or at least that's what I'm sure he was thinking.

Anyway, Chris is still home with us until the end of next week.  I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with Alex and Andy all day once Chris returns to real life.  I think Alex is going to have to spend a lot of time in his carrier while I carve out park time, play time, field trip time for Andy.  And I have to figure out some fun crafts and activities for Andy to do at home.  Do you suppose Andy would like to make a wreath for Christmas?  Stain an old chair?  Needlepoint a pillow?  What kind of crafts are the kids doing these days?  I'm looking for something that involves minimal supervision on my part.

This post is kind of all over the place, much like life lately.  Our house is a disaster, our schedules are non-existent, and the baby is still working on distinguishing day from night.  Remember, Alex:  day rhymes with play.  Night rhymes with sleep tight.  Keep that in mind as we head into your third week of life, little man.

Little, adorable, wonderful man.