I feel the need to point out that my Levi came before his Levi. I did not consult with Matthew McConaughey about baby names. That is all.

He’s smiling and cooing and giggling and generally making my heart melt about fifty million times a day:

I’ve been thinking about this whole second baby business. This is probably my last shot at babyhood, and I’m trying to memorize it. Absorb all the good parts of baby-ness. Enjoy actually having a baby — which is not something I was really able to do the first time around.

It’s going by so fast. We’re almost at 3 months and I haven’t even put up the second month photo album yet! There are also a few moments I want to capture on video, but as soon as I put a camera to my face he stops acting cute and gets all serious!

I’m so thankful for my little guy. He’s so cute. And he has the best big brother in the world, too. Boo tells him on a daily basis that he “likes baby brother” and thinks his fingers and toes are “so little” and “so cute”. I might have some influence there somewhere ;)

I love it when someone has put into words my incoherent thoughts on why I don’t like something. Quite often I know I dislike something but I can’t quite put my finger on why.

That book I’ve been reading, Toymaking with Children, says this:

“A toy chest into which everything that is lying around is tossed and then covered over with a lid not to be recommended.  Such a toy chest does not help the child develop a sense of order and care for the environment; it simply conceals disorder.”

I don’t like toy boxes but I’ve never really known why. They seem fine in concept, I guess, but they’re such black holes where things get lost and never see the light of day again! Or you have to pull out everything to get at the one thing you want. What a mess! Concealing disorder, indeed.
I’m definitely learning that making things approachable, beautiful and inviting really encourages more thoughtful and diverse play. A big jumble, black hole, or a mess on the floor doesn’t encourage anything but ignoring the inevitable cleanup.

Whew. Glad I got that off my chest :)

The Bean turned two months old yesterday. Time seems to be going by both tremendously fast, yet dragging on indefinitely. I can’t believe he’s two months, yet simultaneously wonder why he’s not older yet?

Things are definitely different this time around. For one, I’m a decidedly more confident parent. Partly out of necessity — there are just so many things I feel I have to do that I totally let slide when Boo was a baby. For example, laundry, dinner, cleaning, leaving the house. You know, things like that.

While some of these tasks can be done with a baby in a carrier, it is admittedly much more comfortable to do them on your own. So I put this baby down, which by this point with the Boo I think he was attached to me like velcro. He doesn’t like it — he doesn’t like the bouncy seat and of course he can’t see crap from the playpen right now since he can’t sit up! We found a good deal on a portable swing on craigslist and he seems to like that better, but he’s still not in love. That’s okay — some babies get addicted to their swings and I don’t feel like dealing with that either!

The funny thing about putting the baby down is that I don’t feel all that bad about it. I mean I do, a little, but a Mama’s got to do what a Mama’s got to do and that’s pretty much all there is to it. He’ll be fine. I find it an odd thought, even if it’s true.

I don’t worry like I did with the Boo. Newborn breathing strangeness doesn’t keep me up and crying doesn’t bother me as much. I don’t have nightmares of horrible things happening to babies. I don’t worry about breastfeeding (much) or him being uncomfortable in the carseat.

Truthfully so much of the day is taking care of the Boo that the Bean just tags along, whether he likes it or not. His sole mama-only time is nursing, and even that gets done on the fly quite often. I can’t believe how much I have nursed in public and in front of male members of my family. Quite proud of myself, actually! It’s all in the name of necessity though, believe me.

The one snag that’s really bugging me is that the baby won’t lie down to sleep for as long as he did when he was new, so the most reliable way to get him to sleep for longer (which he clearly needs) is to put him in a sling. That seriously impedes some of the interactions with the Boo, not to mention daily tasks cited above. So some days I keep trying to put him down, but it’s really a losing battle. He just wakes up and makes the rest of the day harder! Sigh. I do think he’ll be a better sleeper when he settles down into his routine, whatever that ends up being.

This baby is definitely more chill. He may look exactly like his brother but he doesn’t act like him. He nurses mostly for nourishment and gets pissed off if you shove a boob in his face at any other time. No pacifying here! Which is great, although sad not to have that soothing tool. He falls asleep pretty easily when he’s ready — not quite the struggle the Boo has always endured. He was doing great at sleeping through noise (and boy is there a lot of noise with a 3 year old around!) but now it’s starting to bother him.

I try not to nag about that and only insist on quiet at bedtime — but I do wish the Boo would chill out a little himself! Really, do we have to yell quite so loudly? Today, for example, the baby kept drifting off to sleep only to be awoken by the Boo yelling or laughing or merely talking, or making some tremendous noise. His eyes are so red from tiredness — I think he will either learn how to sleep through the noise, or just be sleep deprived. Poor kid. Boo got lots of quiet but didn’t want to sleep; Bean gets no quiet but wants to sleep. Oh, the irony.

Of course there are still lots of similarities. Where to sleep is perpetually a problem, as is waking up in the night (although we’re already down to only 2 or 3 times a night, woo!). While I’m pretty good at figuring out which cry means what, there are still those mystery moments where I can’t determine what’s wrong!

The Bean is smiling and laughing so much now. It’s the sort of thing that just makes your heart melt and you really fall in love with your baby. Kids really are lucky they’re so damn cute!

Still.. Despite the confidence, I have an underlying layer of anxiety that I could do without. I’m not sure it ever really goes away.

I’ve been reading Toymaking with Children and a little lightbulb went off in my head.

Playing is children practicing being adults.

Oh. Duh.

I’ve said about a million times over the past three years that I don’t know how to play. I know I did once, but I’ve since lost that knowledge. For some reason the above concept really hit home for me, and I suddenly understand.

And it’s incredibly helpful. For some reason, now I can see what my role is in playing. I can see where to go and stop asking my poor child what he wants me to do, as if he has a clue. I’m the adult here! We can do situations, we can make up stories, we can act out things that have already occured, I can use it as a teaching tool — really the possibilities are endless. I’m the one with the life experience and I can share it through playing. Too cool.

PS It’s 6am. Everyone else is asleep and it’s remarkably peaceful. I’m fighting the urge to go sew something and do useful things instead.

We’ve had a great day so far (I’m not calling it a complete success yet — bedtime has yet to pass).

I’ve been trying to convince myself for several months that we (meaning myself and the eldest lad) would benefit from a more structured lifeastyle that meets at least some of everyone’s individual needs.  The problem has been that my laziness procludes doing anything useful. I’m always going to take the least painful route unless I can convince myself that the ultimate payback will be worth it. Historically it’s been ridiculously difficult to convince the boy to do things he doesn’t want to do, so I often don’t even try.

(Actually I don’t think it’s entirely laziness. I think it’s just been really hard to break out of the “I’m at home at the weekend” mentality and change out of my pajamas before noon.)

Today, though, we did something I’ve had in mind for a long time, which was to get up, eat breakfast, get dressed, and go for a walk. The amount of time and energy required for such simple tasks continues to astound me, but today we did it.

(Incidently, the starbucks we walked to was insanely busy. I wonder if that’s normal? Like I said, we aren’t normally out at that time.)

It felt great. I got some exercise, the lad got some chocolate milk, we watched zero television, and we didn’t even go inside when we got home. We jumped in the car and went on our merry way to the day’s planned activity. In fact, it’s nearly 6pm as I write this, and the tv is on for the first time all day.

When we got home from our sojourn, we ate a late lunch and played for a good long time while the baby napped. Then it was time for some chores for myself, taking care of the awakened baby, and even getting some projects and tidying done that I’d been meaning to do. Now, it’s time for dinner and I can’t help but feel really content and somewhat at peace. I even have plans for dinner that don’t involve opening a can or box. Go me.

This has been the sort of day that makes you say, you know, I totally rock this mothering gig. I can do this. My kids might even turn out okay.

I think I have a touch of anxiety. I’m somewhat on edge constantly, mostly because I don’t know what’s coming next, I think.

Today I’m reminded about the importance of having a routine, for my own sanity. I generally despise schedules, but I’ve come to accept that routine can play an important role in my life. I have routines whether they are purposeful or not. A little baby though, tends to through those routines out the window.

Today hasn’t been so great. We had no plans. I had vague ideas of places we could go but they involved spending money which I’m also not so keen on right now, so I dithered and we ended up not doing anything but staying at home. Normally this is fine, but I haven’t figured out how to do this with two kids yet, and it’s doing my head in a bit.

The funny part is it really wasn’t anything big. The Bean was having tremendous trouble settling for a nap for some reason and wanted to be held all the time. This severely impeded my ability to care for and play with the elder child, who was constantly asking me to play with him. Nevermind the housework our home so desperately needs and is driving me nuts (and you know it’s pretty bad when cleanliness becomes an issue for ME, the queen of sloth).

The elder child has actually shown remarkable understanding and patience for someone who’s three — in fact, for anyone. He asks, I explain why it must wait a bit, he nods and continues, albeit asking me again in about three seconds.

For some reason this morning though, I flipped, put down the baby who would not stop crying, and had to go put myself in timeout. The frustrating thing is it’s no one’s fault. The baby certainly can’t help it, and the Boo is behaving well beyond how I expected him to. Yet I still freaked out a little. Mama’s got some hormones going on, no?

Fortunately my sweet Boo brought me hugs and a kitty cat toy and an M from his floor mat — it’s the thought that counts, eh? :) I still couldn’t get my act together for the rest of the day, but I’m resolved to do better tomorrow. I must remember to breathe.

I’m not making any bets on how any day will go beyond tomorrow though.. it’s one day at a time around here for the moment.

This week we’re on our own during the day. It hasn’t been as bad as I thought it had the potential to be. I’m trying really hard to remain optimistic though, and trying extra hard to think of fun and interesting things to do for the older lad so he doesn’t feel left out by all the time the baby takes up!

So far he’s still really into the babe, but last night he did tell me the baby wanted to go back in my belly. So I think he’s starting to realize just what a time suck the baby can really be. Good thing he’s not up at night, that’s all I can say!

Anyway. Tuesday and Wednesday we ventured out. Tuesday was great — we went to a friend’s house, very safe territory. No worries about parking the car on a busy street or trying to remain modest while trying to latch on a screaming infant who is simultaneous starving yet pissed off about squirting breastmilk. (TMI, sorry about that!)

Wednesday I wasn’t so sure about — we went along with a homeschooling group to a beach where there was a particularly low tide. Turns out I’m really glad we went because it was amazing. Of course I forgot my camera, but we saw a million starfish (did you know they come in colors? Blue and orange and purple and red!) even one with over 20 legs. I didn’t even know that was possible! We found a dead crab, lots of shells, even anemones. I had no idea anemones even grew up here. We also saw a heron eat a fish. It was lots of fun and we’re going to make concerted efforts to do more homeschooling group adventures this summer. Partly for educational benefit but mostly because I’m quickly realizing (after spending all day at home yesterday) that we’ve got to get out of the house!

Blipperino didn’t wake up until right at the end so we nursed in the car while the lad “drove”, ate lunch, and went home. Whew! Great day. I’m glad we went.

The all day at home day wasn’t so great. The day is just too long and while I may have good intentions for thinking of fun and interesting things to do, that doesn’t work so well when the boy isn’t interested in actually doing any of them. I really want to cut back on media in favor of different mentally stimulating activities, but it’s hard to do that all day with a child who refuses to play on his own. Sigh. So today we’re going to do something simple — maybe go to the park. But we’ll do something, that’s for sure!

So far I like having two, the nights haven’t been too bad (mostly), and I’m trying to just soak up the family time we currently have. I know it won’t last forever.

Things I get a kick out of saying lately:

• My kids
• My children
• My boys
• My babies

Yay for plural!

I called 911 today for the baby. He stopped breathing and scared the living daylights out of me.

Of course it was when no one else was home. H and the lad had taken my mom to the airport and Blip had been fed and was napping in the playpen, which was quickly veering towards routine.

I was sitting in a chair where I could see him, writing a blog entry or checking email or something, when I heard this god awful choking vomiting noise. I looked over and there was yellow stuff projecting from the child’s face. It was AWFUL.

Of course I jumped up, grabbed him, took him to the changing table, and tried to get the mucusy foamy crap out of his mouth and nose with one of those blue sucker thingies. There was just so much of it.

And the child wasn’t breathing.

He was fighting it. He was beet red, back arched, and could gasp air as stuff was sucked out, but it wasn’t improving quickly and I was so scared. More and more kept appearing, and I didn’t know what to do.

So I called 911. I decided trouble breathing was not something I want to take my chances with.

Withing minutes 8 very official looking men were in our apartment, sucking out mucus, measuring heartbeats, telling me it was going to be okay. Both fire and EMS. I had no idea Seattle had such a stellar emergency response!

At one point I had the presence of mind to ask why there were so many of them, when what I really wanted to ask was how many grown men does it take to care for a one week old baby? Humor can get you through everything, right?

Anyway, they said it was probably just a really sudden, bad cold, but they were concerned about how thick and yellow the mucus was, so suggested visiting the hospital. Unfortunately traffic on the expressway was horrific so H wasn’t going to get home soon. Blip and I went in an ambulance. I’ve never been in an ambulance before and would prefer not to again!

Turns out the ER pediatrician thinks it was a particularly nasty case of reflux. Blip is okay.

There are some ramifications from this trip though. For one, I do not want to set the child down. Which is a shame since he was doing so good! I just feel so anxious and physically ill at the prospect. Thank god he doesn’t have his own room. For another, there’s nothing like being told your child just has a cold or reflux to make you think you’ve overreacted.

I was so scared though. I felt so bad — nearly throwing up myself, jittery, headache, crying, shaky — just awful. He wasn’t breathing.  I shouldn’t care if I overreacted or not. I didn’t want to lose him.

Which is of course where my tale ends up. I sort of have this feeling, this hope, that we’ve paid some dues in the child dying department. Logically I know there’s no such thing, lots of people have it way worse, there’s no rhyme or reason why things happen and to whom, there’s no point comparing pain and troubles, and no one deserves the bad things that happen to them. Yet… I hope we won’t have to deal with a lot of things you hear about. But there’s no such thing as a free pass, right?

Today scared me so much that I know I have a whole session of sobbing that’s currently welling up inside.  Right now I’m trying to hold myself together, but I don’t know how long it will last. I just can’t lose him. Either of them. I love them way too much.