WHOO POO!

OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG.

GUESS WHAT!??

Kohl’s Department Store has the book “On the Night You Were Born” by Nancy Tillman on sale for $5 as part of their Kohl’s Cares for Kids program!!!!

Can you believe it!?? The book normally retails for $11!

WHOO POO!!!

This is my absolute favorite children’s book in case you haven’t read the “About” section or gathered from the name of my blog. For me, the story so accurately captures the uniqueness and wonderment of each child, and how each child is so individually special and changes your life so profoundly. According to Nancy’s web site, she created “On the Night You Were Born” to convey to children at an early and impressionable age, “You are the one and only ever you.”

Not to mention her illustrations are sublime.

I could recite the book to you because I know it by heart.

The opening page reads:

“On the night you were born, the moon smiled with such wonder that the stars peeked in to see you and the night wind whispered, “Life will never be the same.” Because there had never been anyone like you … ever in the world.

Love. ♥

Kohl’s also is selling “It’s Time to Sleep My Love” which I have and is another lovely bedtime book, as well as two new titles that I’m not familiar with — “Wherever You Are: My Love Will Find You,” and “The Spirit of Christmas.”

OTNYWB is one of my favorite baby shower gifts — actually it’s one of my favorite gifts for kids in general. I’ve even given copies to kids who are 5 and 6 years old. Needless to say, I bought three copies of it and one of each of the new ones (for us!)

I seriously almost crapped my pants when I walked into the store and saw that they were selling these books. I’m planning to go back and get more. They’re also selling plush animals that accompany the books.

Since there’s a Christmas title my guess is that this is the line of books that Kohl’s will sell through the holiday season, but I guarantee you they will not still be in stock at Christmastime. As I was checking out and gushing to the cashier about how much I loved the books she remarked that everyone had been buzzing about them. She also probably thought I was psycho for taking pictures of a book display with my camera phone.

If you want one of these books for only $5, you must go now. They’ll be gone by Christmas.

RUN. GET AS MANY AS YOU CAN. They make fantastic gifts. Just don’t give any to the kids I’m giving them to, okay?

WHOO POO!!!

Oh. right. About “Whoo Poo.”

Well, let me just tell you. Last May I was online shopping for a gift that my cousin, a friend and I were buying together:

From: Jennifer Novotny
Sent: Thursday, May 20, 2010 1:55 PM
To: A
Cc: S
Subject: RE: order babybeat from babybeat

The total was $23.75 each. I found a 5% off online coupon (WHOOPOO, don’t give too much away!), and there wasn’t any tax or shipping.

Thank you both for doing this with me!

 

From: A
Sent: Thursday, May 20, 2010 3:37 PM
To: Jennifer Novotny
Subject: RE: order babybeat from babybeat

check’s [almost] in the mail 🙂

 

From: Jennifer Novotny
Sent: Thursday, May 20, 2010 3:49 PM
To: A
Subject: RE: order babybeat from babybeat

I just re-read my email and I have no idea what “WHOOPOO” means. OMG, I am laughing so hard right now … tears … I meant “whoopee.” OMG. I’m dying.

 

From: A
Sent: Thursday, May 20, 2010 4:44 PM
To: Jennifer Novotny
Subject: RE: order babybeat from babybeat

lol – I was wondering what whoopoo meant. I thought it was just me not getting it as usual 🙂

 

From: Jennifer Novotny
Sent: Thursday, May 20, 2010 9:02 PM
To: A
Subject: RE: order babybeat from babybeat

I am still cracking up about the “WHOOPOO” line. I don’t know why, but I think it’s so hysterical that I wrote that!

It’s like a combination of “WHOOPEE” and “WHOOHOO.” I made up a new word!

*********

So there you have it. When something it’s awesome, it’s not “WHOOPEE” OR “WHOOHOO,” it’s “WHOO POO!”

GO GET THE BOOKS!

WHOO POO!

Letter to My Three-Year-Old

When I looked at you in the rearview mirror this morning on the way to your Nana’s house, you somehow looked older. Your hair was all curled up thanks to the layered haircut you got last week, and your bangs were swept to the right side and held by a magenta flower hair clip. You were looking out the window and I felt like I noticed a difference from yesterday when you were two, to today when you’re officially three years old.

I glanced at your sister on the other side of the car, who was looking out the opposite window, and felt like you just looked like that — it seems like yesterday when you were 14 months old.

Monkey, 14 months

14-month-old sunbather

THREE YEARS. It’s been three years since my life changed in the most wonderful and miraculous of ways. It simultaneously feels like less and more time has passed.

Monday, April 21, 2008, 12:30 a.m.

You were born at 12:30 a.m. after an hour and a half of pushing. It took your daddy two tries to cut the umbilical cord and then they laid you on me, all bloody. It was what I wanted. I remember feeling absolutely amazed at what had transpired. I couldn’t stop saying to your daddy, “I can’t believe we made her.” It was truly the most remarkable and miraculous thing to happen in our lifetimes.

There really was no hope of sleeping after you were born. By the time we made it up to the recovery room, it was 2 a.m. The the nurse gave you your first bath and we didn’t try to go to sleep until around 3:30 a.m. Your daddy fell asleep immediately, but I couldn’t sleep. I just kept staring at you and touching you to make sure you were still breathing. I was on such an adrenaline high.

One-day-old Monkey

Monkey, you are such a joy. Your personality is SO BIG. You are exuberant. You are alternately sensitive, yet defiant. You want to be heard. Things always have to be done a certain way. You are stubborn. You are empathetic and concerned about the well-being of others. You are confident in your own opinions. You want to feel included at all times. You are caring and nurturing.

You get many of these traits from me. While it has been challenging for me at times to deal with my own personality, I think I’ve got it figured out, and I think it will serve you well, too.

You love Dora, chocolate, ice cream and anything sweet. You love to be outside. I think I could push you on the swings for three hours until my arm fell off and you still wouldn’t be tired of it. You want a dog. You want to help with everything, including making every meal. You ask to help wash the dishes every night and you want to help with the laundry and unloading the dishwasher. You take great pride in your accomplishments and you basically want to do everything by yourself. You love to bake with me. Your curiosity is unbridled. You have an amazing memory. You’re creative and want to draw, color, paint — and your latest — cut with a scissors. You still love to cuddle, and sometimes when we lay down with you at bedtime you ask to hold our hand. (I heart this).

You probably are one of the funniest people I know. Obviously, I’m biased, but you make me laugh out loud on a daily basis. When one of my aunts sees pictures of you, she says, “I can just see her thinking, ‘I’m so funny’ because you probably tell her that every day.” And I think I do tell you that almost every day.

You are learning how to identify and express your emotions, and you communicate in such a way that it makes me feel like you’re older than you are. You listen to everything we say and ask questions about difficult subjects that I’m not sure how to explain.

You continue to become your own person and I’m in awe of the process. I’m also a little nervous. Because from the moment you were born and every day since, you’ve taught me how to be a parent. You’ll always be my first born, my test case, the one I make the most of my mistakes on.

It was a slightly terrifying time to be a first-time mother, feeling overwhelmed and incapable, and in typical “you” fashion, you didn’t make it any easier on me. That’s okay though, because you force me to be my best. And I want to be my best for you. We’ll keep figuring it out together. So far, I think we’re doing a pretty good job.

I am so happy to be your mama.

She looks so big here that it kind of takes my breath away.

April 21, 2011 - Someone's sister wasn't interested in a birthday morning photo shoot.

Happy third birthday to my great big girl.

Birthday Girl

Happy First Birthday to my Bean!

This year has been an amazing journey, Bean. I can’t believe you’ve only been with us a year, because I can’t remember a time when you weren’t here.

I was so worried for so long about how things were going to go with two kids. How we were going to handle it. What it was going to be like. And then suddenly you arrived, and life was changed completely. Changed for the better.

In this last year you have taught me, even more, to expect the unexpected. To not sweat the small stuff. That these phases, indeed, are short. That it all goes soooo fast. Especially the second time around.

I can’t profess that I know you intimately yet. Sometimes I think you’re still somewhat of a mystery to me, but it’s becoming clearer every day. I think it’s harder for me because I don’t think you wear your emotions on your sleeve like your sister and I do. You seem more like your dad — harder to read, slow to anger but then it takes you awhile to get over it.

We thought you were laid back. Your dad and I have a good laugh about that now. Oh how wrong we were.

You appear fiercely independent. You experienced tremendous initial shyness, and then starting around month 6 until month 10 you suffered terrible bouts of separation anxiety.

Now you’re a flirt. Laughing and giggling and playing peek-a-boo with just about anyone.

This week there was a day when you wouldn’t nap for us. We think it was teething. I got to hold you like I did when you were a newborn. We rocked and you slept with your head on my chest and your legs tucked up underneath you. I cherished it because I know that those times are becoming more and more unlikely with each passing day.

When you were a newborn you liked to raise your eyebrows and show us your wrinkly forehead. You also used to furrow your brow.

You’ve always pushed your bottom jaw forward and stuck your bottom lip out. Your dad says it reminds him of his grandpa K.

You’ve always laughed by sucking air in.

You’ve always liked to make blowing noises with your mouth.

You’re highly amused by your sister and the two of you play well together. You need to know where she is at all times — including when she’s in a time out for pushing you over.

Speaking of your sister, you have much better balance and coordination than she ever did. You surprised us by hitting milestones — like crawling, walking and putting toys through slots — at different times than she did. And your teeth have emerged in a completely different order.

You and your sister look remarkably alike, yet different. You each have your own special characteristics and unique traits.

Your sister says you are her best friend.

She loves you so much.

And so do we.

Thank you for enriching our lives.

Happy Birthday sweet girl.

A Baby Story

It was a Tuesday at my 39+ week appointment when my doctor advised that it might be a good idea to schedule an induction. With Bean’s size expected to be at least 8 pounds, and my amniotic fluid a little low, the doctor though that it might be better for Bean to be born a little sooner rather than a little later.

Oh, and I was already 5 cms dilated and not in labor. Go figure.

As one of my cousins said, “I can’t even believe a woman can be 5 cms dilated and NOT be in labor.” Hey, you and me both.

Especially because at my 39-week appointment with Monkey I was all Fort Knox up there. Not dilated or effaced AT ALL. Not even a little bit. Not even enough to let my doctor strip my membranes. I burst into tears at that appointment.

So it was pretty surprising to be 5 cms dilated and not in labor with Bean.

We scheduled the induction for Friday, February 5, 2010 — one day before my due date — and hoped that she would come on her own.

It was an EXTREMELY weird feeling to have an end date. With Monkey, every day during the last two weeks was spent wondering, “Is today THE day?” To actually know the day was a little unnerving.

I spent the next three days exercising my Type A personality — aka “I know when I’m going to have a baby and I’m going to clean the entire house and do everything I possibly can before she comes.”

If given the opportunity to control a situation, I take it.

I even put over 700 photos in albums. In one night. Yeah, I kind of let that get out of hand. I hadn’t printed photos since Monkey was four months old. WHOOPS!

On February 4, I planned a special day of errands, shopping, and lunch with my good friend A. It was the last day I knew I would have any time at all for myself, much less time out of the house, so I made sure to wear a cute outfit and do my hair and makeup. My friend A remarked, “I can’t believe you’re all dressed up! You look so calm! You’re having a baby tomorrow!”

It was kind of fun to be running very last-minute errands at Babies R Us and Old Navy, having the clerks ask me when I was due and replying, “I’m having the baby tomorrow.” I even played the “I’m having a baby tomorrow” sympathy card and convinced the clerk to honor a coupon that wasn’t valid until the next day. I’m pretty good at convincing people of things. It’s a Type A thing.

Of course I also had to finish folding laundry, fill the car up with gas, shave my legs, put my bag in the car, pack Monkey’s bag, and glance at the labor and delivery info again. I was ready.

That morning we woke up early to find that Monkey had fingerpainted with poop in her bed. Nothin’ like some added stress as you’re rushing around thinking, “OMG I’m going to have a BABY. TODAY!” Ultimately we got off to the hospital on time and made the short drive in mostly nervous anticipation.

My birth experience with Bean was completely different from my experience with Monkey.

With Monkey I went into labor on my own around 2 a.m. and labored at home until 2 p.m. before leaving for the hospital. My contractions slowly gained in intensity and duration over 12 hours. When I was admitted to the hospital I was only 3-4 cms dilated. Monkey was born at 12:30 a.m. the next morning after 1.5 hours of pushing. She was a very average 7 pounds.

Checking into the hospital with Bean, on the other hand, was completely surreal compared to what it was like with Monkey. For one, I wasn’t in labor. I didn’t tell the nurse examining me, “I love you,” after she concluded that I could be admitted.

It was all very polite and punctual, with our suitcase and camera. Like we were tourists checking into a hotel. We strolled up to the labor and delivery floor. No rush, no urgency.

My doctor came in to break my water and then have me walk the halls for three hours. What a waste of time that was. I was sending emails and updating my Facebook status from my Blackberry, telling everyone how surreal it was to be induced.

By the time my three hours was up, I was experiencing infrequent and inconsistent “stop in your tracks and breathe” contractions. I was 6 cms dilated. The nurse hypothesized that she must be in there spread-eagle style. No freaking kidding.

At 12:30 p.m., the nurse administered pitocin. At 12:40 p.m., I was in full-on, angry raging labor and 7 cms dilated. Wowie.

The nurse called for the anesthesiologist right away.

Now here’s the part where I wish I would have done things differently. At the hospital where I delivered Bean, I had the option of receiving a “walking” epidural. I don’t remember the specifics, but apparently the anesthesiologist would administer a first drug that takes some of the edge off but still allows you full use of your legs because they want to encourage you to stay up and moving so that your labor continues to move along.

Well, clearly that was not going to be a problem for me. So the anesthesiologist just administered the full epidural right away. I wish she hadn’t. I wish I would have known how fast it all was going to go. But I didn’t know, and it turned out completely unlike my slow and steady labor with Monkey.

With Monkey, by the time I was ready to push, my epidural was wearing off and I could feel my body telling me exactly what to do. I still had pain relief, but I felt more in control of my body.

With Bean it was not like that at all. Within two hours of receiving the epidural it was time to push. And I couldn’t feel a thing. I wasn’t experiencing what my body wanted me to do. Don’t get me wrong, I had a vague sense to push, but I was pushing all wrong. And I knew it. The whole experience just felt completely out of control. Especially at the point when Bean’s head was out and the doctor was trying to maneuver a shoulder and a nurse jumped up on a stool and starting frantically pushing on my belly to get her out. It was a panic moment for me to be perfectly honest. Thank God they were able to free her shoulder in what probably was seconds, but felt like an eternity. (I’m really sorry if I’m scaring you, my pregnant friends.)

Thank God I only had to push for 15 minutes. I honestly couldn’t have sustained the type of “wrong” pushing I was doing for much longer.

In the end, it turned out there was a good reason Bean got a little stuck. She was 9 lbs 6 ounces. Upon the doctor laying her on my chest, I immediately exclaimed, “Oh my God, SHE’S HUGE.” And that was before I even knew her official weight. I could tell just by looking at her that she was SO BIG. Especially compared to the first time I laid eyes on Monkey — who honestly was a peanut with super skinny legs and arms. But Bean — she was gigantic. She already had big baby rolls on her arms and legs. She looked like a one-month-old.

It was funny, I remember when I held Monkey for the first time I just kept looking at her, thinking that she would look familiar to me. I expected to look at her and think, “I know that face.” But I didn’t feel that at all.

The second time around I thought, “Now this time the baby will look familiar to me because she’ll look like her sister.” But at that moment when I held her for the first time, Bean looked NOTHING like what Monkey looked like as a brand new baby. Again, such a weird feeling to expect to look at this baby and see something familiar, but not. Within just 24 hours though, the girls’ resemblance started to show.

I was much more emotional after Bean’s birth. I wept when the doctor laid her on my chest. My mom was in the room this time. Watching her cry as she watched her brand-new granddaughter look at me for the first time truly was special.

With Monkey, I was elated, but I really didn’t cry. The second time around I think I understood better the significance of the event. I could appreciate the BIRTH of OUR BABY and understand completely the joyous occasion that it was. I knew exactly how our lives were changing for the better.

With Monkey, I had no idea how truly awesome motherhood would be until I was actually experiencing it. It’s one of those things that you can’t fully appreciate, no matter what everyone tells you it will be like, until you’re actually doing it.

My two very best friends were pregnant with me while I was pregnant with Bean — one of them with her first. I teasingly told her that I thought I was more excited than she was. But only in the sense that I already knew the joy that was awaiting her, and I couldn’t wait for her to experience it. It’s just indescribable. There are no words.

If we have another child, I don’t know if I would elect to be induced again. I definitely don’t think I would take the “full” epidural again, given how fast everything went. That aspect of Bean’s birth was honestly quite traumatic for my Husband and me. So much so that shortly after she was born we both looked at each other and said, “I don’t think we’re going to have any more kids.”

Thankfully, I no longer feel that way. But if we have another baby, I know I’ll want to do some things differently.

In the end, it’s all worth it.

364 days ago, it was one day before the birth of my second child. My beloved Bean.

Leaps and Bounds

The seasons have always played a big part in reminding me of major life events. For example, every mid-May when the crab apple trees are in full bloom and the grass and sky are in Technicolor, I vividly remember my wedding day. Everything was just so vibrant that day.

You know how it is when your senses combine to create memories? It’s the way something looks, how something smells, and something you hear that makes you think, “I remember this.”

Now that we’re getting into November and the days are getting shorter and it’s cold and dark out, I’m remembering this time last year. It dawned on me that last year at this time Monkey’s room was still our spare room. Our spare room with the double bed and the emerald green carpeting, and closets stuffed with all of our extra crap — the wrapping paper, my yearbooks (which I STILL cannot find by the way, and it is DRIVING me crazy!), my extra shoes and bridesmaid dresses.

 

Monkey, helping us remodel her new "big girl" room.

 

It was a weird feeling to remember how short a time ago that we were still preparing for Bean’s arrival. It feels like Bean’s room has always been her room. I barely remember it not being her room or a time when she wasn’t in our lives. I barely remember a time when Monkey wasn’t in her “new” room with the new beige carpeting, pink and yellow walls, and butterfly curtains. Yet, just one short year ago, we were picking out paint colors and buying accessories and wall art. And Bean wasn’t here yet.

Monkey moved into her new room on November 12, 2009 — one day after we finished installing the carpet and after she fell out of her crib. Waking her up every two hours to check for signs of a concussion was more than a little tiresome. We were planning to move her right after Thanksgiving anyway, but since she took the flying leap out of her crib, she made the transition to her “big girl bed” a little earlier than expected. I can’t believe it’s been a year, and I also can’t believe it’s only been a year.

It’s funny, because right after Bean was born I remember how weird it felt to be checking on two kids before I came to bed instead of just one. And now Bean is nine months old. Today, in fact. The same amount of time that she spent in my belly.

It’s remarkable, really. The transformation babies go through in such a short amount of time. They grow into a perfectly developed person in nine short months, and then they become an almost entirely new person in another nine months. And she’s just so BIG already. So grown up. I absolutely adore babies at this age because they are so fun and engaging with their little personalities bursting out, and they seem to learn five new things every day. But, but. But part of me is longing to have my cuddly baby back. How did that go so fast?

 

Bean, 2 months old.

 

Now the idea of Bean cuddling with us is comical. She’s too busy moving. The only time she lays her head on my chest is if we meet someone new and she’s a little shy. And even those instances have come few and far between lately.

Part of me is wishing that I could have one more day with the baby who always fell asleep while doing … well, almost anything.

You know Bean is my sleeper. But when she was first born she was like a SUPER sleeper. As if sleeping was a competition and she was going to win, d@mn it. She’s so much like her father in that way. I used to tell people that I could count to 10 and Husband would be asleep, until one time I did it AND I ONLY GOT TO SEVEN.

Bean also has inherited her father’s uncanny ability to fall asleep nearly anywhere, in any position. Once, Husband fell asleep, sitting on the couch, WHILE EATING A BOWL OF ICE CREAM. I mean come on now, really? Seriously? Who falls asleep eating ice cream!? Oh, I’m sorry, the cool, creamy deliciousness of the ice cream isn’t enough to keep you awake??

Bean used to randomly fall asleep while we were holding her — like after swimming at our neighbor’s pool while we were chatting on the deck — she just laid her head down on Husband and took a little siesta. The same thing happened one time when we were Skyping with my brother and almost-sister-in-law. Or there was the time when Husband was holding her on his knee and slightly bouncing her. The rhythm was enough to BAM, put her to sleep. She even fell asleep in her high chair once. Ca-ra-zy.

 

Bean, 6.5 months old.

 

Bean also used to fight waking up. We would poke and prod her and she would cry with her eyes still scrunched up tight, like “I am NOT opening my eyes!” I would hold her upright between my legs and as soon as I stopped prodding, her head would slump to the side and she would fall back to sleep. Or, I’d wake her up and then stand up with her on my shoulder and within minutes she’d be snoozing again.

While Bean isn’t quite this sleepy anymore, she still displays remarkable ease in putting herself to sleep. Sometimes when we put her to bed at night we’ll hear her in her crib “talk, talk, talk, talk, SILENCE.” Just like that. SO unlike her older sister.

I’ll always remember one of the last days I spent with Bean at home before I started working again. Monkey was at her Nana’s house so I could spend time with Bean alone. And I decided that I was going to hold her while she was sleeping — all day. Since she was always so content to be laid down to sleep, I felt like we both were kind of missing out on her being held. So I held her. All day. I watched movies and she slept in my arms. It was awesome. I didn’t attempt to get anything else done that day. I just sat in a chair and held my baby on my chest.

Some days I feel like a time traveler because it’s inconceivable that this is all going so fast. Mostly I feel grateful because I think I’m doing a good job of appreciating each day.

I know that these next few months are going to be like reliving the time leading up to the day of Bean’s birth in February. And also remembering her first few weeks with us at home. Cold, dark, overcast days, snowstorms, fires in the fireplace, lots of snuggly fleece outfits and hunkering down for playtime in the house.

 

Bean, 4 weeks old.

 

I can’t believe I’m already mentally planning her birthday party. I can’t believe it’s gone so fast.

Heads or Tails

I don’t really know what to make of it. At nearly nine months old, I still can’t quite figure Bean out — her personality that is. I just don’t know what to make of her. For the first three months of her life I labeled her as easy going, laid back, and chill. She could fall asleep anywhere, anytime. She would fall asleep at night VERY quickly and easily, after being laid down fully awake but sleepy (AT TWO MONTHS OLD!). She would fall asleep in her little rocker, without anyone rocking her to sleep. She would fall asleep in the car. And she would sleep for a loooong time. For naps she would sleep at least two hours, three times a day.

And she rarely fussed. She did not have an insatiable need to be held. In fact, I spent a lot of her early months feeling guilty for not holding her MORE, because she was always sleeping, and when she was awake, I was holding her some, but she also was being laid down a fair amount so I could attend to her older sister.

And all of this sleeping was oh so contrary to all of my experiences with Monkey at this early age, where sleep was a daily struggle. And, Monkey always wanted to be held. From the moment she was born she wanted to be UP. She wanted to be AWAKE. She wanted to be ENGAGED. She wanted to SEE. Monkey’s personality was so evident from so early on. She was a handful. She was busy. She never stopped moving. She was opinionated.

At four months, something with Bean changed. It was as if she hit four months old and suddenly became fully enthralled with this big world. And she developed this personality. I’m not kidding you — it was sudden and dramatic. It was night and day. Like someone flipped a switch. She had been, “sleep, sleep, sleep, eat, sleep, sleep sleep, what? we have another kid in the house?” To “I’M HERE. LOOK AT ME. HOLD ME. I WANT TO SEE. I WANT TO EXPERIENCE. HOLD ME, HOLD ME, HOLD ME, HOLD ME, HOLD ME.”

And while we have gone through our share of sleep fluctuations with Bean, the fact remains that she still loves to sleep. It’s very normal for her to take two 2-hour naps. In fact, last week she slept for over 2.5 hours, woke up close to 4:30 p.m. and then was yawning, cranky and irritable for the rest of the night because she apparently was still tired. Ca-ra-zy.

(I do have to point out though, that these naps only take place at her Nana’s house; when she’s home with us on weekends or on my days off, she naps like crap. This is the same thing Monkey would do, and at the time the girls’ doctor assured me it was only because she wanted to spend more time with exciting mom and dad. I still think it sucks.)

And I wonder, was I mistaking her desire to sleep as having a laid back personality? Because the more and more time goes on, the less and less I think she is “laid back.”

Now, Bean never stops moving. She’s SO physical! And I thought Monkey was physical, but Bean has outpaced her!

She is vocal — we’ve probably had more crying and fussing in the last two months than we did in her first six months combined! And the crying and fussing reach extreme levels when she’s tired, which she seems to be a lot; because as I’ve already covered, she really loves to sleep.

She is a handful. She is opinionated. Especially when it comes to eating in her high chair, which she doesn’t favor. She is persistent — whether it’s objects she’s trying to grasp, or my leg that she’s trying to crawl up. And she’s always trying to crawl up on me. Like she needs to be ON me at all times.

Which brings me to, “why does she need to be ON me at all times?” I know, this is the age for separation anxiety. Plus, I think she’s teething. But it is all. the. time. And hell hath no fury like a separation anxiety-riddled baby who has been set down. Talk about fussing and crying!

Am I not remembering the crying and the furious crawling after? Perhaps partial amnesia is to blame. I also know that while Monkey experienced separation anxiety, I do not think it was to this degree. Is Bean going through this because I didn’t hold her enough as a tiny infant?

I wonder, if because I pre-labeled Bean as “easy going,” do I give her less slack than I did her sister, who I labeled “spirited.” I wonder if I’m more easily frustrated by certain things she does because I’m expecting her to go with my flow, instead of expecting her to hold, and vociferously express, her opinion the way Monkey did from day one.

Am I mistaking her naturally growing and expanding brain and curiosity about the world as being “spirited?” I mean, maybe this is just the natural progression of things. Even laid back people have opinions.

Does she push the limits like Monkey did? I don’t know yet. I don’t even think Monkey really “pushed the limits” until she was over a year. Am I just not remembering what it was like at nine months?

Is she somewhere in the middle?

I don’t know exactly why I am so obsessed with figuring this out. Maybe it’s because Monkey’s personality was so evident from such an early age, and I’ve never experienced this type of evolution. Why am I in such a hurry to label my youngest daughter? My student council days taught me to “label jars, not people,” yet here I am. Trying to label!!

I think it’s because I just want her to be happy and to attend to her needs. And I feel like if I can figure her out, then I can better attend to her needs?

Or maybe it’s because I’m flummoxed by all the changes Bean is going through. And I hate being flummoxed. I’m reminded that the only constant in a baby’s life (or anyone’s) is change. And babies change so, so rapidly, which is very contrary to my way of life, which I prefer to be run clearly, precisely, and orderly. I also have an oppressing need to KNOW things, everything. Because, you know, when you KNOW things, you can control them, and let’s be honest. Ultimately I just want to control things. Gee, I think I just saved myself a bundle on therapy.

But I still don’t know the answer to the question of her personality!

Do you think your baby was “laid back?” What characteristics did they display that made you think that? Are they still like that now that they’re older? And what made you think your baby was “spirited?” Is your child still spirited? Did your baby’s personality evolve over time, or was it evident from the very beginning?

Save me from myself! 😉

Clicked

I can’t quite believe this, but Bean is going to be six months old next week. SIX MONTHS. In just another short six months she’s going to be COMPLETELY different. She’ll probably be walking, using her hands to eat, drinking from a sippy cup, and saying a word or two!

Which is why it’s difficult for me to admit that up until last week I didn’t feel the type of intense connection with Bean that I had with Monkey when she was born. Kind of embarrassing really.

Don’t get me wrong — of course I had a connection with her. I oogle her and kiss her, cuddle her, and do silly things to make her laugh. There’s never been a question about whether or not I LOVE her and want to care for her and protect her. That came as naturally to me as breathing. But it just felt like something was missing — like when you order a turtle sundae and they forget the hot fudge — it’s still really good with the caramel and the nuts, but it’s just not as good as you know it could be.

I remember telling my mom about this very early on. I said, “Bean just doesn’t demand as much of my attention as Monkey did at this age. I just don’t feel something.” Overall, Bean is much more laid back. She never demanded to be held as much as Monkey did when she was a newborn, which was pretty much ALL-THE-TIME. And when you have a Toddler Tornado running around, capable of saying and doing almost anything to get your attention, you’re kind of grateful that your newborn is nonplussed about being put in the vibrating bouncy seat while you go get juice, or crackers, or color, or change the laundry over, or make dinner, or spend 35 minutes chasing the neighbor’s chicken out of your yard.

Plus, when someone can’t tell you all about themselves — what they like and dislike, what their favorite color is and their favorite outdoor activity — how much of a connection can you really build with that person? Imagine walking up to someone in Starbucks and trying to make friends with them. Except, the only thing you know about them is that they don’t like it when you poke them and they’re happy when you buy them a Danish. Oh, and they smile when you act like an idiot, and they don’t like sitting in their own sh*t. Or anyone else’s sh*t for that matter. See!! Kinda hard to build a meaningful relationship, isn’t it!?

I think another compounding factor is that my memories of Monkey’s first year are not that far from reach. The girls are only 21.5 months apart. It really wasn’t that long ago. When you’re a first-time parent, EVERYTHING is new. And absolutely each new thing rocks your world. And there are lots of new things — like a new thing almost every week. There’s the first smile, the first laugh, the first time they roll over, and the first time they sit up (more or less) unassisted. Oh my gosh, the list is endless!

Being my first child, Monkey was the center of my universe by default. I had the luxury of reveling in baby blissdom because I didn’t have anyone else to pay attention to! By default, I’ve spent lots more one-on-one time with Monkey than I probably ever will with Bean.

By default, Bean’s first year is kind of like a movie I’ve already seen and am watching again, except that it’s on in the background and I’m also folding laundry. You know those movies, right? Your favorite movies that you know really well and don’t have to pay super close attention to? You’re watching, but you’re not watching it as closely as you would if it were the first time. You don’t notice and appreciate the details like you did the first time. You still laugh at the funny parts, but not as hard. You still cry during the sad parts, but not as much. And you know certain parts so well that you can recite the lines by heart. Even though I look at my children and tell myself on a daily basis, “Remember this time. Appreciate this time.” I knew I wasn’t appreciating it as much as I could be.

Obviously, this whole connection thing has really been bothering me. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time and feeling like a bad mama. And then, the other morning while I was up with Bean and Monkey was still sleeping, I decided to think of Bean as my *only* child. I began to imagine that she was my first born. And just like that – it clicked. There was the connection I had been longing for.

There are a lot of similarities in a baby’s first year of life, before they can really express who they are. But it’s not the same. While Bean does look an awful like lot like her older sister, she IS her own person. And as soon as I began to appreciate her as if she were the only one I had, it clicked.

Which leads me to reflect on what I do know about Bean. The older she gets, the more her personality starts to unfold.

• She’s got a really sensitive palate. She’s not as welcoming to new flavors and textures in her mouth as Monkey was as a baby. My first indication of this was at her two-month well-check when the nurse tried to give her an oral vaccine. Upon receiving the first squirt, Bean contorted her mouth and made that awful “eeeh” face like you swallowed a cockroach and you can feel it crawling back up, and then she gagged, and made the face again. And then she gave that shudder — that “Ugh, that was just awful,” shudder. So yeah. There were definitely more of those faces when we started her on solids. It’s pretty hysterical actually. Even now after having had prunes a half a dozen times, she still makes that face on the first bite.
• Bean is pretty sensitive in general. While she’s more laid back and it takes her a long time to get worked up, when she’s mad, she’s MAD. Sometimes, the kind of mad where even after you pick her up and are comforting her, holding her and rocking her, she’ll pause, and then decide she’s still MAD. And she’ll keep crying her head off. I hate that! Monkey was never like that. There’s nothing that makes you feel like an inept parent more than not being able to calm your crying baby.
• She’s easily over stimulated. While Monkey seemed to thrive on ACTION! ATTENTION! PEOPLE!, Bean freaks out and shuts down when she’s had too much.
• She still looooves to sleep. While there definitely have been some transition periods, for the most part, the biggest reason Bean gets cranky and cries is because she’s tired and wants to go to bed. I didn’t even know they made kids like that.

When Bean was first born, lots of people advised me that it would be really important to spend some one-on-one time with Monkey to ease her adjustment to the baby. But after spending the last few mornings playing with Bean before Monkey wakes up, I’ve come to realize that I want, and need, to spend some one-on-one time with Bean too. I think the alone time is what helped the connection click. I just need to make more time where I focus solely on Bean.

And I’m reaching out to you otha muthahs, to hopefully tell me that you know what I’m talking about and that I’m not the only one in the universe to have felt this way. Am I crazy? Selfish? Unfeeling? Normal? Anyone, anyone? I know I feel guilty. Guilty that it took me so long to figure this out and appreciate Bean for who she is and who she’s becoming. And feeling a little sad, because like I said, she’s going to be a COMPLETELY different person in six months. Why does this go so fast!?

It’s really wonderful to finally have the connection I was longing for. The invisible string that ties you to your children. The tugging you feel because a little piece of your heart is walking around outside of you.

Thankfully, sometimes the beautiful thing about watching one of your favorite movies over and over again, is that you’re surprised to notice something that you missed every other time.

Sleeping Bean, 5.5 months, clutching her "My First Doll."

Losing Your Sh*t

If you ever see a mom who doesn’t have freshly shaved legs and armpits, don’t judge. She probably hasn’t been able to shower in peace for like, three years. Because that’s what happens when you have kids. You can’t ever get A MOMENT’S PEACE, not even in the shower. And sometimes, it’s either conditioner or shaving, but not both.

I remember the day we brought Monkey home from the hospital. The storming undercurrent of hormones finally overtook my fragile mental existence and I literally LOST it when I tried to go take a shower, because the baby wanted to eat for like, the 7^th time in two hours. I just stood in the doorway to the kitchen, sobbing, my shoulders shaking. My husband was sitting on the couch, cradling the newborn, watching me with a terrified expression on his face probably because he was thinking, “Crap, now I’ve got to figure out how to take care of this thing by myself because my wife has gone batsh*t crazy.” All because I just wanted to take a shower.

In the last two weeks, I’ve made a vow to try not to “lose my sh*t” so much. I’ve been seeing this phrase used on a lot of mom blogs lately to aptly describe the feeling when you’re about to go out of your mind, explode into rage, or in general, are at your wit’s end. I like it.

Two weeks ago I was trying to make cookies with Monkey, but Bean wasn’t sleeping for me. So in the process of running between the kitchen and her bedroom trying to coax her back to sleep (total fail, BTW) I burned a sheet of cookies. Then I spilled an entire bag of butterscotch chips on the floor. After which I burned my hand really badly on the hot cookie sheet. I really lost my sh*t. And then Monkey got really scared because I was yelling and she started screaming crying and saying “Mama, stop it, mama stop it!” I realized I didn’t want to be scaring my kids like that and I vowed to stop losing my sh*t.

Coincidentally, around the same time I picked up this great book by Amy Wilson — When Did I Get Like This? The Screamer, The Worrier, The Dinosaur-Chicken-Nugget-Buyer & Other Mothers I Swore I’d Never Be — that my neighbor/friend/fellow mom recommended. This book was like therapy. In it she talks about how she was a screamer, and now she’s a reformed screamer because she realized that she was scaring her kids. Plus they were starting to ignore her screaming because they had gotten used to. That really ticked her off. So she decided to stop losing her sh*t. After her extensive research and reading about parenting, she distilled what she learned down to the following, which I now have taped to my fridge:

Lower my voice instead of raise it.

Model flexibility rather than impatience.

Embrace my child rather than my frustration.

ANYWAY, back to being hairy and not having a moment’s peace to shower. We are in a transition period in our house. Bean is in that in-between period where instead of waking up around 5 or 5:30 a.m. to eat and then going back to sleep, she’s waking up at the undesirable time of 6:15 or 6:30. She’s not quite making it to 7 a.m. which would be preferred. Plus when she wakes up at 6:15 or 6:30 she doesn’t go back to sleep after I feed her. Which means, she’s not waking up early enough for me to shower and get ready after I feed her, or before. And Monkey, for whatever reason — probably because she can sense the movement of the earth’s tectonic plates or something, she’s very sensitive like that — has been waking up before 7 a.m. for the last week as well, instead of 7:15 or 7:30 a.m. which is typical for her. And this is not good because I really need to shower people! I mean, I know I work from home, but I do take SOME pride in my appearance and general removal of body hair.

So yesterday Bean wakes up at 6:25. I feed her and make a valiant effort to coax her back to sleep so that I can shower, because I know she’s not going to be happy if I leave her in the crib awake for more than five minutes. And I know she’s not going to be happy if I lay her on my bathroom floor either. She’ll cry just as loudly plus she’ll be in danger of rolling over and getting stuck underneath the toilet. I jiggle and rock and lay her down, only to have her wide awake and rolling around in her crib as soon as I walk out the door. Damn. It’s now 6:50. I turn on the shower just in time to hear Bean start to express her dissatisfaction with being left alone. I’ve only managed to rinse the shampoo out of my hair and start to condition when Monkey walks into my bathroom announcing that she has to go potty.

Not a problem. This is totally doable because Monkey can now pull her bottoms off and use a stool to get herself up and on the toilet. In fact, she often insists that we let her go to the bathroom by herself. Plus, she sleeps in a pull-up, so it’s no big deal if she has an accident while I’m in the shower.

I instruct Monkey to go get her stool. She comes back and I start to lead her through the steps of pulling down her pajamas when she stops me.

“Mama, I need a wipe.”

“A wipe? What do you need a wipe for? You only need a wipe for poopy.”

No reply.

“Monkey — what do you need a wipe for?”

I crack the shower door to prevent flooding the bathroom and look at her. She stares back at me.

“What’s going on? What do you need a wipe for,” I ask again for the third time, starting to get a little irritated now because she’s not answering me and for the love of God I am trying to hurry up in the shower because I can hear Bean over the baby monitor expressing extreme dissatisfaction.

“What IS dis?” Monkey points down to her foot.

I look. Oh in the name of all things holy and sacred.

“Monkey! That’s poop! How did you get poop on your foot!

The red lights on the monitor are now brilliantly lit up and Bean is on her way to a complete meltdown.

A million conflicting thoughts are running through my head as the shower door is now gaping open, water pouring everywhere. I consider losing my sh*t, but don’t. Monkey clearly didn’t do this on purpose. She doesn’t look happy. She’s not grinning deviously. I remember the tips on my fridge. I am staring at Monkey trying to figure out what to do. I wonder if I could walk her through how to wipe the poop off her foot, but dismiss the idea before I’ve even completely thought it. That scenario would only result in her then having poop all over her hands, arms and legs.

I momentarily consider whether I could finish my shower, but there’s no way. Monkey has a HUGE chunk of poop on her foot and I don’t trust her to stay in the bathroom, even if I explicitly tell her to. Plus, I don’t want even more poop tracked around my bathroom than there already is. Oh. And eww. It smells. Bad.

There’s just no way around it. I have to abandon my shower. With conditioner still in my hair. I come out of the shower and further inspect the mess. She has somehow got her pull-up wedged halfway up her butt cheek. I’m not sure if she pooped in her sleep? Or woke up and started to poop and then tried to remove her pull-up to finish on the toilet and the poop fell out. I have no idea. I do know, however, that I can now see poop on her other foot too. Ugh. I wipe the biggest chunk off.

“STAY HERE. DO NOT MOVE,” I say in my most stern voice.

I dash naked and dripping down the hall to the other bathroom for the toddler wipes, STILL NOT LOSING MY SH*T BUT REALLY WANTING TO, and realizing that I just instructed Monkey to walk down this very carpeted hallway, from my carpeted bedroom, to get the stool, with poop on BOTH of her feet. I am on the lookout for more chunks of poop. Our carpet is beige with brown spots. I don’t have my contacts in or glasses on. I am PRAYING that I’m not about to step in poop.

The other bathroom offers further clues. Several pieces of poop scattered on the floor. At this point I throw my hands up in the air and beg, WHY, GOD, WHY? Okay, not really. I just grab the toddler wipes, run into Bean’s room where she is in a full wail, open her shade, shove the nuk in her mouth and run back to my bathroom. I start cleaning the chunks of poop off Monkey’s feet. Except I can’t properly clean her.

I throw her in the shower with me. I give her a full body scrub down and examine every inch for more signs of poop, all the while wondering if there are tiny pieces of fecal matter on my hallway carpet and “how on earth am I going to clean that!?” Thank God I don’t see poop anywhere else on her body. No seriously, thank you. At least now she has the sense to understand that poop is disgusting and didn’t start finger painting with it.

I wrap her up in a towel and inform her to sit on the bathroom floor until I’m done. Meanwhile, I frantically wash the conditioner out of my hair and run some soap over my own body. Damn, Bean is not impressed by my flimsy effort to appease her with the nuk and has moved on to stage 3 — the “I’ve been crying so hard now for so long that I am hyperventilating because you are never going to come back for me, and for surely I am going to die” stage. I run out of the shower again ­— at this point the entire bathroom has been flooded — and I run to pick her up and inspect the rest of the collateral damage. Obviously, I’m still naked and dripping. Two spots of poop on Monkey’s bed. Two spots of poop on her bedroom carpet. I squint at the hallway again and am 99% certain she didn’t track poop prints down the hall and between the bedrooms. I have no idea how she didn’t.

BUT, through all of it, I DID NOT LOSE MY SH*T. I do admit though, that when I was trying to squirt the three-quarters empty bottle of Fantastik on the bathroom floor, after trying to squirt the three-quarters empty bottle of Resolve carpet cleaner on Monkey’s bedroom carpet, while STILL naked, I did mutter some choice words about the ridiculousness that is trying to get those damn cleaners to work when there is still enough solution in the bottle that it SHOULD work, yet all it does is spew bubbles in the most imbecile, inefficient and frustrating way. What is UP with that!? At that point though, Monkey and Bean were safe in another room and didn’t hear my slight rant.

BUT I DID NOT LOSE MY SH*T!

The Sisterhood

I’m not gonna lie. I’ve always been a little jealous of women who have sisters. That doesn’t mean I don’t love my AWESOME brother!! Because I really, really, really do and I’m so glad to have a brother. It’s just that I wanted to keep my brother AND have a second sibling of the female variety. Unfortunately my parents weren’t game.

For a girl, sisterhood just always seemed so magical — a built-in best friend, someone to share clothes with, someone who was required to be there to talk to you about all the girl stuff! When you have a sister, you have an automatic maid of honor, a Godmother for your children, a person to call when life sucks. And then there are all the picture frames, wall hangings and poems touting the virtues and benefits of having a sister. JEALOUS! I’m sure boys feel similarly about having a brother. In fact, I bet my brother wishes he had a brother (in addition to my fantastic self).

Last fall when we found out Bean was a girl, I was ecstatic. While I would have been so happy to have a boy, especially for my husband, I was overjoyed knowing that Monkey and Bean always would share a special sister bond. For the entire Christmas season I had the “Sisters” song from White Christmas running through my head. I was just tickled that Monkey was going to have a sister, and that the two of them would be able to experience the things I imagined I missed out on. Plus, now when I see the “Sisters” picture frames, “Sisters” T-shirts, and “Sisters” wall hangings, I have a reason to buy them; much to the detriment of my bank account.

Monkey is becoming so interested in what Bean is doing. When she wakes up in the morning, the first thing she does is look for her sister. When Bean’s already awake, she exclaims, “My sister’s awake!” When she doesn’t know where Bean is, she says, “Where’s my sister?” She informs us when Bean spits up, when she thinks Bean’s tired, and when she thinks Bean’s pooped. She rubs Bean’s head and strokes her cheek. And she’s become obsessed with her baby dolls, changing them, feeding them, and carrying them around wherever she goes. And have I mentioned that all her baby dolls are named Bean? She’s even started talking to Bean like we do — in that high-pitched, sing songy voice that parents use. She kisses her and hugs her, is upset when she cries or thinks she’s hurt, and doesn’t want to go to Nana’s house without her. The other night Monkey pressed her face forehead-to-forehead and nose-to-nose with Bean. OMG, my heart melted! I do that all the time with the girls!! Bean reciprocates by watching Monkey’s every move. She stares, and stares and stares. She watches Monkey run back and forth, back and forth between her toys, her head following Monkey all around the room. She scoots in circles when she’s lying on the floor to watch where Monkey goes, and cranes her neck to keep her in sight. She’s taking it all in.

I think having two girls actually might be God’s way of giving me a peek at what sisterhood is all about. Watching Monkey and Bean’s bond unfold before me is amazing. I’m watching it grow every day. And I imagine them in five years, 10 years, 15 years. I picture them standing up in each other’s weddings, talking on the phone for hours during college, sharing clothes and makeup in high school, playing together and teaching each other things. And believe me, I know there’s going to be tons of drama, fighting and tears that go along with all the stages. But I’m choosing to ignore that right now. Right now, I’m more than content watching the development of a beautiful best friendship.

While I don’t have a sister, I do have to give a huge thanks to the two girls who have been my “sisters” since second grade, and my cousin who’s only nine months older than me and always has been like a sister. Love you girls. And I am blessed to have inherited two wonderful sisters-in-law who compliment the many brothers in my husband’s and my life.

Finger Painting with Poop

I haven’t run across many parenting books that discuss specific examples of how older children, toddlers in particular, will adjust to the birth of a new baby. Given this obvious oversight, I thought I would try to bridge the gap since we brought a new baby home 9 weeks ago and our older daughter is two years old.

Please keep in mind, though, that I am not a parenting expert and these are not necessarily real-life scenarios. I mean, these are just things that could happen that I thought up in my head. Mmmm hmm.

The Positive

Your older child, more than likely, will really like the baby. Especially because newborns don’t yet pose a threat to their toys and territory. For example, your older child may want to kiss the baby, hug the baby, and say “I love you, Bean,” all the time. Other common phrases include, “I love you baby sister,” and “Funny baby.” She also may ask to kiss the baby’s belly button, tickle the baby’s feet, or nuzzle the baby’s head. Occasionally she may want to hold the baby, but then after a couple minutes remove her hands quickly from around the baby’s waist so that the baby flops over to one side. She also may lean on the baby, partially sit on her, or gently whack her in the head with a book. The latter actions should not be construed as acts of aggression toward the baby, but merely a lack of awareness of her own weight and proper baby etiquette. And just plain curiosity to see what happens when she whacks the baby in the head with a book.

A new baby in the home also may spur interest in common baby activities, such as feeding the baby or changing the baby. For example, one night when your toddler is supposed to be sleeping, you may enter her room an hour after her bedtime to find her walking on her bed with all the spare diapers from the closet strewn around the room. Upon questioning the child, she may exclaim, “The baby needed a change!” in reference to the baby doll on her bed.

The Negative

You may find that while your toddler loves the baby, she does act out for attention from you, the parents. Your toddler might regress and begin performing previous undesirable behaviors, such as throwing cups and silverware during meal time, not going to bed promptly, and answering “NO!” to every single thing you ask her. Sometimes she may even scream “NO! NO! NOOOOOOO!” over and over again.

Your toddler also may demonstrate new undesirable behaviors, such as smearing maple syrup all over her face while you’re gone checking on the baby.

Or, finger painting with her poop.

The first time she finger paints with her poop, you may discover it first thing in the morning, in her bed, smeared all over the sheets and pillowcases (perhaps on the morning you’re supposed to go to the hospital to deliver the baby). You may think she just had a diaper explosion, and that it wasn’t done intentionally. The second time, when she smears it on a pillow in the living room (on the night you get home from the hospital from having the baby), you’ll still think the first time is an accident and that this was just a little experiment. Your spouse may be very, very angry. But, when he expresses his anger, he might be carrying a baby doll and have a little girl’s barrette in his hair (because he was just playing with your toddler), and it will be very difficult for you to take him seriously. In this situation, laughing and waxing poetic about “these are the days,” will not be appreciated by your husband. The third time, when your daughter smears it all over her bed and sheets again, you’ll know for sure that these incidents have not been accidental. The fourth, fifth and sixth times, when she smears it all over her play kitchen and the gate in her room, when you’re home alone with her, you may be very, very angry. You will then understand why your spouse got even more upset when you couldn’t stop laughing at him because he had a barrette in his hair. Ummm, all I can say about this is that you might want to think about potty training.

The Just Plain Odd

Finally, your toddler may exhibit some totally off-the-wall behaviors. For example, after fooling around in her room for more than an hour and a half after her bedtime, you might check on her before you go to bed and find that she’s … well, naked. As in, COMPLETELY naked. And sleeping. Naked. You might find a completely naked sleeping child.

What might happen is, you and your spouse will enter the darkened room and walk up to the bed to lovingly tuck the child under her blankets. Your spouse will use his cell phone to illuminate the child in the darkened room. As he’s doing this, your eyes may have trouble adjusting to the darkness and you’ll be thinking, “What pajamas did I put on her?” While you’re pondering this, your husband will quietly shout “SHE’S NAKED! SHE’S COMPLETELY NAKED!” And then you will realize, indeed, she is completely naked. Upon which you will die of laughter and collapse on the floor. Once again, your spouse will not be amused by your tendency to laugh uncontrollably in inappropriate situations. He will become angry with you because he’ll be afraid that you’re going to wake up your naked sleeping child, get her all riled up, and that it will take her a long time to fall asleep again. But his anger won’t be enough to squelch your laughter. You’ll still be dying on the floor. At which point, he’ll throw the pajamas and diaper at you and say “You do it,” and walk out. You will diaper and dress your child, still laughing, during which she will wake up, see you laughing hysterically, give you a cutesy little smile, and WAVE at you. OMG.

Again, these are only hypothetical scenarios. The aforementioned to which I really have no solutions for. I just said I would tell you what might happen, not what to do about it.

Oh, and one other thing — the “negative” and “just plain odd” behaviors, may have little, if anything, to do with the fact that you brought a baby home. It might just be because your kid’s a toddler.