So, that second child

Ok, I was terrified when my ex was pregnant with my son.  I mean I was so scared that even as she was going thru labor, I thought we had made a mistake.  I was hoping that if we kept the receipt, we could return him when we realized it was not working out (I would have even accepted store credit, they sell beer at hospitals, right?).

Of course as soon as he was born, immediately after seeing his little slug-like, naked body, I was in love with him.  There was no taking him back for store credit or regifting him to my sister.

With my first child, the first night home was one of the longest nights of my life.  We had the little guy in our room and he would coo and twitch.  Every sound he made, we overreacted.  We were those helicopter parents hovering around him.  Then, when he was finally quiet, we got even more helicopter-like, why is he being quiet...what is wrong with him...did we break him already?

Eventually we got to the point where we could sleep at night (as long as he would allow us), but other things crept up.  There are few things more frustrating than knowing your child is sick and them not being able to express what is wrong (wow, do I miss the days where they couldn't move or talk).  As a new parent, it was terrifying for me to think my son was sick and I could not figure out what was wrong and help him.

Then as he became more mobile, more worries came about.  He would eat the dog food (apparently this runs in my family, since my sister liked to do this...a lot longer than she will admit to).  So of course the panic of "will this dog food hurt my son" cropped up.  I figured he would not die (fingers crossed), but what if it curbed his ability to become a world-class athlete (for the record, my genes already took care of that).

Then he started to play in the toilet and garbage cans (he threw my first wedding ring away, I am convinced of this).  His hands were washed so much I am surprised they are not transparent.

Oh no, he fell down on his tushy...we better sprint to him and check webmd.com to make sure he did not break anything.

Fast forward a few years to when my daughter was born.  Everything was different, starting with her birth.  My ex was in labor for over 28 hours with my son, with my daughter it was 20 minutes (no joke, she literally shot out into the doctor's arms).

There was no issue putting her into her room the first night she was home.  Oh, she made a cooing noise, eh big deal.  Oh she has been quiet for 14 straight hours, eh big deal.  I can remember my son crying and hearing it on the monitor, with my daughter, we just rolled over and turned it down.  We knew the difference between a real cry and a I-am-trying-to-annoy-my-parents cry.

Oh my daughter just licked my dog's ear, oh well, I am sure Colby has recently showered.  Oh she is picking up rabbit poop from the yard (this really happened), no big deal, I can just wipe your hands off with my shirt and you are good to go.

She is not feeling well, it is probably an ear infection (trust me parents, it is ALWAYS an ear infection).  We will just call the pediatrician and ask for a prescription for amoxicillin (get used to that word future parents).

Look my daughter is going jump off the steps on to a ceramic-tiled floor...oh crap MY DAUGHTER IS GOING TO JUMP OFF THE STEPS ON TO A CERAMIC-TILED FLOOR!   Yeah, that one I cared about, but most of the time she falls, gets a scrape, runs into a wall (more times than I would like to admit) I just look at her and tell her "you're more scared than hurt, punkinhead".

My son has paved the way for my daughter.  I completely understand why I got away with nothing growing up and my sister got away with everything...they clearly loved me more!