And before you all go… but, Daiva?! Newborns are supposed to wake up frequently so they could eat and grow up to be food-throwing,  hair-pulling, kitten killers!

Duh! I know THAT. The problem is that Liam will mostly sleep for about an hour and a half… ok, two hours if it’s a holiday, but then he stays completely awake and completely annoyed with life for hours at a time. Especially if it is two in the morning… because then he can just pass out around 5am, which also happens to be the time when his lovely sister rings a bell for her breakfast in bed and the entertainment crew, aka. MAAAA-MAAAA! UP-AH, UP-AH! And as a well train Pavlov dog I bring her milk and carry her highness downstairs. At which point I make my signature mommy of two-under-two champion breakfast -> Special K with diet RedBull (try it… you’ll thank me later), turn on my autopilot and truck along till about noon until Leila goes down for her nap and my mom takes over Liam so I get to take a break. Lucky… I know. The problem is that my mother will be leaving in two weeks and then? I am royally screwed.  And as much as I care to maintain my image (that I spent years establishing through this blog and my life-altering status updates on Facebook) let’s be honest… unless I start sprinkling cocaine on my mornings doughnuts I won’t last a day.

This is all temporary. I get it. I am not panicking. I am almost not even complaining… It’s just that this temporary stage lasted for about a year with Leila, so all I could do right now is prepare for the worst and hope for… a little less worse. As much as I hate to say this I think I see a part-time daycare in Leila’s future. Unless, of course… Liam pulls his act together and starts sleeping through the night, changing his own diapers and putting his sister down for her naps. I say it’s the least he could do for a woman who gave him life, no?

As much as I struggle with breastfeeding and all the joys (aka mastitis… a post for another day when I feel less stabby about how it was handled) that come with it, I definitely have less anxiety about it. There is certain calmness about the whole parenting jazz the second time around. I no longer feel the need to be the hero (well… ok, maybe just a little). I still want to breastfeed but only as long as I can do it without having an urge to stick a fork in my eye. I am not as jumpy every time the baby cries. I even wait until he actually starts crying before picking him up… With Leila I was holding her the second she even looked like she might… possibly… eventually… sort of… maybe start whimpering… Yes, I am one of THOSE mothers… you know, the kind that makes you nervous just by looking at them. Have a bad feeling this will be a popular topic between Leila and her shrink.

With Liam it truly is as if I have grown a pair of cajones. When I was still pregnant I told my OBGYN I want to wait 40 weeks before I go for the scheduled c-section, even though she was strongly suggesting 39; while in the hospital I kicked out the nurses and their baby torture devices out of my room TWICE, because the baby was sleeping and I was not going to wake him up; I almost rolled my eyes at the nurse when she hinted that Liam might have jaundice, because I just knew he didn’t; I did roll my eyes at the doctor who said I should have milk by day three… because it took me almost a week to get milk with Leila and I spent 4 days driving myself crazy with worry that I am starving my baby; oh… and this time I didn’t call the nurse and ask her to show me how to change a diaper… true story.

Liam might not get as much one on one time with me as Leila did, but he will surely have a much calmer, wiser mother… and THAT is a gift that every first-born gives to their siblings.

Gripe water, jumping on the exercise ball, going up and down the stairs, massage, swaddle, repeat… and if the baby starts crying do the same for him.