Before we had any kids we bought this very high pub style dinning table… and for Liam’s safety his “floor time” activities have been moved to the table…

… Leila has never shown any interest in the table or the chairs

until this morning…

sorry, Liam…

She will just look at you. Right, Leila?

P.S. my mom has been in charge of dressing Leila and I personally find this very entertaining.

So. Contrary to popular belief, a 17-th month old is perfectly capable of premeditated murder.

The first day at the hospital Leila acted as if she has been issued a restraining order against her brother. 10 feet… no closer. She only walked up to me after I gave Liam to my mother. The next day she finally got close enough… just so she could scream ‘NO!’ and whack him over the head. Liam was only 3 days old and I was already examining him for head injuries…

At home it got progressively worse with each day. Eventually she wanted to be on my lap every time I was breastfeeding or holding Liam. I just end up having them both on my lap (thank you, God, for the thunder-thighs that can easily seat two children) while trying to protect Liam’s head… and his eyes… I basically need a baby helmet. So much  for trying to pull off the look of Madonna breastfeeding her baby… with the light streaming impressionistically through high windows to illuminate a domestic scene of order, calm and maternal bliss… and me in an obligatory soft gauzy veil… aaaaah… Instead it’s more like a weird baby wrestling on a couch with me in a breast milk stained t-shirt and a burping cloth over my shoulder.

It’s been 10 days since we brought Liam home and things are getting slightly better… well, she pretty much ignores him and me… IF I hold Liam. On the upside? Whenever Dennis walks in the room now, he gets a full blown rock star treatment. It’s PAPA!PAPA!PAPA! all.day. long. I don’t know how Dennis feels about it, but oddly I am relieved and somewhat happy that she is finally really bonding with her father. And I am sure that once Liam is older and doesn’t breastfeed every forty-fricking-five minutes for two hours… I will have more time for her too.

The worst part this far has been a surprising feeling of guilt on my part. Completely irrational and surely hormonal. Since my mom doesn’t drive I feel like Leila’s outings and activities have been cut in half. Which I knew would happen, I just didn’t expect to be so paralyzed with guilt… Leila is perfectly happy and gets to run around the neighborhood daily, so really there is absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. And as of today I am making a conscious decision to… LET IT GO, because I am a great mom and there is nothing to feel guilty about. Wish me luck…

We did prep Leila for her little brother’s arrival (as much as you can prep a 17-month old who mostly was just using your belly as a perfect jumping off point), but here are a few things I wish I’ve done differently:

1. I did show her how to breastfeed her doll and played the game were I was doing it on the couch. What I wish I’ve done is sit there longer… at least 15 – 20 minutes, because it seems that the amount of time I spent feeding Liam frustrates her the most. And asking toddler to be patient is like trying to stop Lindsay Lohan from drinking and driving.

2. Carry her baby doll in a carrier… really I just didn’t think about it and now she wants to pull him out… by his hair, of course.

3. Put in a second car seat and drive her doll in it with her in the back… this would have probably minimized the explosion of NOOOOO! when she saw another car seat next to her. I’m just lucky she was strapped.

4. Blast loud music every 3 hours or so – a slight hearing loss would have done wonders for my sanity.

And as I am typing this Dennis is putting together our double stroller… Cannot wait to see Leila’s reaction to that…