With about 4 months or so under the my belt, baking the Small Fry, I’m harboring few, if any, of the logistical mysteries that I did with Max. There will be minimal upgrading, and some learned lessons applied, but the product and mom-theory research and test runs have been done, tried, and proven. Or not, as the case may be.
This pregnancy is nothing short of a breeze - so far - and I sometimes forget that I’m pregnant. There’s a Max to marvel over, work and increasing opportunities that are branching out, and a new home for which to pour over remodeling plans with the equally excited husband who draws floor plans with Max’s fat crayons, starting with the kitchen.
While the pregnancy manages to escape my attention much of the time, my thoughts wander often to my 2 boys with visions of how they’ll grow together. Will they be partners in crime, or adversaries? Will they harbor the same tendencies and share personality traits, or emerge as night and day, as is the case amongst my own siblings? Will they pack their bags for travels to far away lands together one day, coming home with stories for their wanderlust parents? Or the very best scenario yet, maybe we can all pack our backpacks and travel together. To me, this will be best compliment to my role in their lives; that my boys will want to share their adventures with us. The brothers against the world?
A little closer to home, though, I wonder whether #2 will be the more difficult one that makes me question my abilities as a mother? Perhaps that unknown is my biggest fear of all in this next stage. While I can fairly easily deal with another Max, what will I do with one who cries easily for all of the reasons that Max doesn’t, though by all rights, he should? What if this one is finicky? What if he can’t stand a wet diaper?
I am amazed at Max’s tolerance for discomfort. He gets this tolerance trait from his father and I am well aware that this has little to do with my influence on raising, and everything to do with pure luck. At a friend’s house recently, I trapped his fingers under a chair. As I pressed on the chair to make it sit evenly, thinking that it wasn’t settling correctly on the ground, he whimpered, barely audibly. I heard him seconds later, as he tried to clue me in on his pain, but he never let out a cry beyond that annoyed whimper.
And what does it normally take, aside from walking away with his food? There was little sleep accomplished last night. He was on his 3rd day with chicken pox, teething, and with bit of a fever. Each time I put him down at my bed time the other night, 2am, he wailed at a pitch that would rival any banshee. Last night, he was fine. And that’s what it takes. A former manager shared a bit of information that seems so obvious. That it’s easy to be a good manager to good employees. It’s the difficult employees that test your capabilities. It’s easy to be a good mother to an easy child. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m a great mother, no matter how much I’d like to think that I am.
My (now, not so) private fear, mixed with a premature guilt of even thinking this, is that Baby #2 will be much more easily disturbed, forcing us to readjust in an environment where no one will be having fun. More fussy. More of a crier. While I already love my unborn baby and am waiting anxiously for the steady barrage of his beatings and kicks against my belly, I also feel a bias toward my first born; that this could be unfair to a good natured Max who has only had us to himself for a little over a year.
In the end, I have little doubt that this mother’s love will cast a haze over the potential ‘faults’ of our new addition. In fact, I’ve already almost forgotten that the evil side of Max woke me from a semi- state of napping yesterday afternoon (after keeping us up for most of the night) by shouting, “No!” crawling over quickly and hitting my face with his tiny palm - an oncoming issue that I hope will pass as a short phase. While I don’t have to deal with much crying, the hitting will hopefully not develop into a lasting issue. When I opened my eyes, he smiled and middle earth was once again stable. My bias, guilt invoking as it may be, is that Max is such an overwhelming real and present light source for me. While I love our new addition because he is a part of this family, it’s difficult to fully embrace him, yet, for the person that he will become. But I know that all doubts and concerns will be swept away the moment I hold him. And once again, there will be no questions or unfamiliarity.
