Monday, April 28, 2008
Highs and Lows
This week has gone by so quickly. Actually, every day since Melora's birth has gone by quickly. She's already a month old, and I feel as though I've only had her for a week. I'm still captivated by everything she does, her daddy is still hopelessly wrapped around her tiny slender finger, and we're still trying to figure out how to go grocery shopping with two kids. Any hints out there?
Last week was the first week alone with my kids during the day while Michael was at work. By Friday, I felt as though I had a large part of being a mother-of-two under control. At least under control enough not to be curled up in a ball, shaking and sweating on my living room rug. Both of my children survived a whole week without my mom or mother-in-law living with me to take care of them, and the pile of dishes is no taller than I am. Since I'm not particularly tall, I consider that a pretty successful week. I was worried before Melora was born because I just couldn't imagine how I would take care Isaiah's needs, Melora's needs, and my own needs all at the same time. Somehow during that fearful pregnancy time, I forgot that Isaiah is a really capable, easygoing two-year-old, and my husband is superman. Honestly, Michael has been amazing at helping me take care of household chores (including laundry, which is the chore I despise) as well as being a jungle-gym for Isaiah and a giant teddy-bear for Melora every night.
So, with that good week under my belt, I was feeling rather confidant and cocky, and I maaaay have developed a know-it-all-mom-swagger. I guess it was time for a downfall...enter the ear infection (and change the music to a minor key.) Isaiah was up all Monday night holding his head and telling me his ear hurt. We finally got some Motrin into him and he fell asleep around 7 in the morning. My poor baby. It doesn't matter how big he is compared to Melora, how well he enunciates his sentences, how hard he can kick a ball, or how independent he has become - Isaiah will always be my little baby. Tuesday was another rough day because he was lethargic and sad all day long, but he woke up the morning after a fresh, happy little boy again. We played inside and outside, and I just took the time to enjoy my Isaiah again. Melora has also had a stuffy nose the past few days, so Monday night was doubly tough because she didn't get to sleep until late, and at one point in the middle of the night, I had my sniffly little girl under one arm and my crying little boy under the other. Hopefully we've gotten through the tough part of the week and can now move onto the fun part. Needless to say, though, my house is pretty disheveled, as is my hair. That's alright, though, because my living room can be picked up in a flash, and my babies needed me.
Isaiah is still an adoring big brother, and it's fun to let him help us with the baby. He likes to open her new diapers for us when we're changing her, and he also likes to sweep the kitchen floor with the Swiffer. Sometimes he even likes to dump out a giant Costco container of 14,000 animal crackers onto the couch for me. (Oh well - at least he has a sweet heart, and two out of three really isn't bad.) For her part, Melora is extremely tolerant of her big brother, and as far as I can tell, a little fascinated by him. He comes up close to her face and almost kisses her but erupts into a fit of giggles instead and dances away, and she just stares at him with her giant, beautiful eyes. Although he really does love Melora and hasn't acted jealous, I can tell he really appreciates time focused on just him. It doesn't even matter what we do; as long as Michael or I (or both of us, every once in a while) are paying attention to him and only him, he's giddy. I'm trying to make sure I set aside some time every day to put Melora in her hammock and focus on Isaiah. It's so tempting to take that time instead and quickly vacuum or empty the dishwasher, but whenever I choose to pour extra love on Isaiah, it's so obvious I made the right choice.
Today he was sitting on the floor with no pants and his legs sticking out in front of him, and he began squeezing the skin on his knees.
"I'm angry - it's a angry face," he said to one of his squishy knees.
"It's angry too," he said to his other knee as he squeezed it.
I finally realized he thought the lines on his knees looked like an angry face. Oh Isaiah - how much I enjoy you every single day!