Ahh the third

I've said this to all of my girlfriends recently--those that don't already have children. I also make sure to say it to any pregnant woman that I meet. (Yes, I am now the woman I hated when I was first pregnant. The dreaded unsought-advice-giver. And yea, that's a legit term. Look it up.) Anyway, I feel this "advice" is valuable enough that I want to share it with anyone I can. So here it is: I've been saying so frequently since my little Cole was born that I wish everyone could have their second child first (Hear me out...) because then they could truly appreciate how easy the first child is. Am I right? Mamas of more than one, can I get an amen? Allow me to elaborate. With my first, I was rather anxious. What if I didn't do everything right? Was he getting enough milk? Oh my God! He's not tracking objects with his eyes yet. Ok, he's six weeks today. Why hasn't he smiled at me yet? Shouldn't he be rolling over by now? The list goes on. Furthermore, I thought it was SO HARD. I could hardly get anything done for holding the baby all the time. How could I possibly get the laundry done or make the beds while holding a fussy or sleepy baby? (See my last post.) And I was tired! I mean, I had a BABY. And he didn't sleep all night. And why didn't they teach that in sex ed? (Sidebar: I think a really effective method of encouraging abstinence would be to rent out newborns to families with teens and let them wake up every 2-3 hours to change diapers, warm bottles, soothe the colic, etc. And after 3 or 4 nights of this followed by school or work the next morning, THEN you'd give them the tantruming two-year-old and the backtalking four-year-old. Ha! Seriously, I may market this.) And then there was the worst of it: I was lonely. And, if I was honest with myself, a little bored. I spent all day taking care of a little human that just cried and pooped and wanted to be on the breast. He hardly acknowledged me, didn't smile, and certainly offered nothing in the way of intelligent conversation. I remember waiting eagerly by the door at my husband's ETA on our doorstep. Tell me everything! What happened at work today? What'd you eat? What's it like outside? And hold the baby so I can pee! Ah yes, I look back now at my cute little 24-year-old self, and I think, You idiot, you didn't know how good you had it. Because that's the life, isn't it? One baby. ONE baby. One BABY. All they do is cry, poop, and want to be on the breast! Their needs are so easy to determine and so easy to meet! They don't harass you for new toys, they don't want to watch TV when it's dinnertime, and they don't require creativity to entertain. You hold em in the crook of your arm while you surf the net, paint your toenails, vacuum, read a book, whatEVER. They don't care. You prop them up here or place them in the swing there, and they are more or less content to watch the world go by. I remember placing Owen in his bouncy seat atop the dining room table, and we could enjoy a leisurely, hour-long dinner, sip wine and talk about our days, and he was cool. Now? With a 4-year-old and a 21-month-old? I can't remember the last time we had conversation over dinner that didn't involve Abby Cadabby or diapers. And an hour? Puh-lease. Dinner is roughly a 15-minute affair during which time we eat very little while trying to convince Owen that he does, in fact, like macaroni and cheese (can you imagine??) and placing back into her seat at least a half dozen times. But Cole? He's cool. You guys still eating? Cool. I'll just look at the light fixture. Holla when you're finished. He hangs out between us on the bed while we watch movies or TV shows that aren't appropriate for the younger audience. But see, he's not going to repeat those cuss words or mention to his Sunday school teacher that he saw a show about vampires. Nope. Uncensored TV watching and conversation with him around. And as for that complaint that I was tired with one? Ha! Nuh uh, girlfriend. This is simple: you sleep when he sleeps. Nevermind that you were going to fold some laundry or take a shower. Let. It. Go. Lay down and take a little nap while he does. Because once that second baby comes along and keeps you up all night, you can forget about napping when she does. Because your precious first born will be insisting on being entertained in those rare moments that he can get your undivided attention. And by the third? You'll be running #1 to soccer practice or some such during naptime, and sleeping behind the wheel of the minivan is not recommended. And as for being lonely or bored? Nope. Nipped that in the bud. Found a few playgroups (all free of course!) where the baby is stimulated while I can interact with other parents. Or not. Sometimes some good people watching and the comfort of knowing that other humans are out there is all you need. And I don't know whether it's because he's my third or because I'm a little older and a little wiser (I hope), but I have learned to soak up that "nothing time." Time when I can just sit and hold him and look into his little face. Because guess what? Tomorrow you'll wake up and that little face will be writing his name, reading words on TV, singing Miley Cyrus's latest hit, talking back to everydamnthing you say, and about to go off to kindergarten. And that, my friends, is what we call life flying by. I can't believe how old my "baby" is. So do I just sit on my arse and look at Cole and soak up this time with him? Yes. When I can. With two others, there's not a whole lot of that down time. But I take what I can get. So there we go. All the reasons that I wish everyone could have their second child first. On account of that is impossible, I hope that people will read this and take to heart what others tell them about your first. Yes, it can be scary and intimidating. But follow your gut, don't be afraid to call your mom or the pediatrician (that's why they get paid the big bucks!), and enjoy every little minute of it. I know I am. Even the bad ones. Lovin it.