Loving it. Hating it. Loving it.

Are you ready, world, for my big revelation? I now know what being a parent of two is about. The first year of babyhood, revisited, but still going by so fast. The sleepless nights, again, and the budding of a relationship between the two beings you created. And they have relationships with you, and with everyone in their lives, whether or not you control it. They are growing up. And you just hold on, as best you can.

What do our days look like lately? A lot of sweeping of the floors as Story makes her way around, completely by herself, looking for people. When she sees Collin, she cries "Bra Bra!" (which we assume means 'brother'). She does these adorably weird crawls, the crawl of a baby who has recently discovered independent movement, and would rather just be walking. She scoots on one leg, or sprints in a bear crawl. When she sees Husband, she absolutely must be held RIGHT NOW by him, and then she absolutely must be held RIGHT NOW by me, then back to him, and so on. We did this, and finally, she sat between us and just grinned her drooly grin, her chubby cheeks threatening to pop right off from sheer excertion, and she signs her first baby sign: "More."

 More? More of what? More of us? Does she really want more of us? Could it be?

Now that Story is nearing the end of her first year on Earth, I feel like I know her a little better. Story is becoming less the complacent baby she was, and showing us her new layers, as they develop. She loves to eat. I mean, that girl LOVES to eat, and how do i nurture her passion for food in a society that shames women who look like they love food? It starts with me. I am her mother: her first role model for what women think and do. It starts with me.

I have been so very busy lately becoming a completely different person: A mother of two, that I've failed quite miserably to blog about things. So, to make up for lost time, I will just list you some names of would-be blog titles from the past nine months:

Collin's Great Escape
The Poop Volcano
That Time I Thought I'd Accidentally Broken My Child's Arm
Eating Cheddar Bunnies on the Freeway
My House Is Decorated For Every Holiday Because Preschoolers Are Crazy
Getting Everything I've Ever Wanted
Hating Everything I've Ever Wanted
How Can A Baby's Butt Grow So Fast?
That Time I Woke Up With Anonymous  Boogers In My Hair and I Almost Re-thought Co-Sleeping
Collin's Brief Love Affair With Conventional Preschool
Our Brush With Scabies
Feeling Like I Might Be Finally Getting Somewhere
Feeling Like I have A Long Way To Go
Feeling Like Everything Is Crazy, But Everything Is Going To Be Okay.

Discovering (lack of) sleep, and (lack of) readiness.

When I finally crawl into bed at night, I hear the “Ding ding!” of bells at a boxing ring. The fight is on. My darling son and I will battle for sleep all night long. Collin is insistent on being attached to my chest, whether to nurse (in his sleep, mind you) or to use it as a pillow. He puts the phrase “sleep like a baby” to the test, and will systematically wake me every couple of hours to nurse without opening an eye, himself. We received a beautiful co-sleeper from my parents as a gift, a little baby bed that attaches to our bed, but found that everybody slept better if the baby was in bed with us. The only problem is, our little angel turns into a farting, snoring, pee-soaked bed hog who somehow becomes as hot as molten lava and kicks me to death every time I get comfortable.

I knew something had to give. I longed for him to sleep in his co-sleeper, but to my amazement, every time I tried to put him in it, it was me who had a problem with it. Suddenly, the bed became a vast, lonely, babyless oasis, and I nearly jumped out of my skin every time Collin so much as peeped. The subject of bed-sharing came up in my new parents’ group, and another mother shared a story identical to mine. I told her what happened to me every time I attempted the co-sleeper.

“Sounds like you’re not ready,” she said.

Hmm.

So, I put some thought into that. She was right, Collin wasn’t the only one who needed to be “ready” for the co-sleeper. I never thought that becoming a mother would overwhelm me so completely, taking hostage everything that used to be normal and comfortable. We’re still working on the co-sleeper. Now, the baby will start the night asleep by himself, but always end it right back in our bed, attached to me. I guess I’ll take that, for now.