9 Months Is 2 Too Many

What I’d really like to do is rant for half an hour about how sick I am of being pregnant. About how I can’t sleep, walk, or digest properly because my internal organs are sharing space with what feels like 20 lbs. of angry kittens in a 10-lb. sack. About how if one more person makes a stupidly obvious comment about my belly or tells me how much they LOVED being pregnant, I am liable to punch them directly in the face. But that’s not that entertaining, now is it?

So instead, I’ll tell you about my weekend. We watched my 2- year-old niece while my brother and SIL went away for the weekend for the First. Time. Ever. since having a baby. (I know, what took them so long, right?)

Despite her parents’ fears, Chloe settled right in to our household routine and even slept like a champ. While Miles was mostly thrilled to have his 7-mos.-younger cousin stay with us, he did express a range of emotions. Among them:

Regression. Chloe slept in his old crib in what will soon be the new baby’s room. Of course, as soon as Chloe moved in, Miles developed a renewed fondness for the crib and insisted on climbing in himself. Also, his (spotty at best) interest in using the potty while Chloe was here diminished considerably. The “diapers are for babies” line doesn’t carry as much clout as it used to.

Competitiveness. There was some jockeying for position on laps during story time, and if Chloe was carried down the stairs, Miles wanted to be, too. If we applauded her rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” Miles immediately burst into song, too.

Bossiness. Nothing like having a little mini-me echoing your every word: “Chloe, come let’s change your diaper.” “Chloe, sit down and eat your dinner, please.” Thanks for the backup, Miles. Anyway, Chloe refused to be bossed by anyone.

Heartbreak. Miles had his first taste of female rejection when Chloe refused to take a bath with him. He broke down into dramatic, tearful sobs. Fortunately, she relented the following night and fun with bath crayons was had by all.

Exhaustion. My son is a pretty active and social little fella. It takes a lot to wear him out. So it was kind of funny to find him lying on the couch by himself on Sun. morning, like, “Dude, I need some alone time.”

Abandonment. Not surprisingly, tears were shed upon Chloe’s departure. By Miles, not her. No, she clung to her parents with a death-grip as if to say, “I finally got my peeps back. No WAY am I letting go to kiss these clowns good-bye!” It’s been 2 days and Miles is still saying, “Where’s Chloe? I miss her.”

A good sign for the impending arrival of his younger sibling? We’ll see. Until then, I’ll be waddling around, grunting, burping, and scratching my stretched abdomen, the very picture of maternal beauty and grace.

MILESISMS O’ THE WEEK:
“Big Newton”: the classic fig-filled cookies.
“Wapkin”: what you wipe your mouth with during meals.
“Last morning”: all-purpose measure of time meaning yesterday, last week, or once in a dream.