Baby No. 2

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Baby Spicer no. 2!  Isn’t she sweet?  She’s 14 oz. and perfectly healthy.  I’m 21 weeks and the projected due date is still my birthday–December 9!  And, well, yah she’s a SHE!

It’s wonderful to know these things.  She’s healthy, we get to see her lovely face, we got to watch her wiggle and jiggle.  We know developmentally that she is right on, we have a for-real due date, and we know she’s a she!  Why does that information of knowing the sex of the unborn child feel so heavy?  The torture of not knowing feels so unbearable.  Knowing feels like such a relief.  But, what is relieving?  Knowing what color to buy?  It’s more than that.  I think it promises an illusion of control.  It says that now I can really dream about what the rest of our life will be like.  Now I know whether or not it’ll be a football player or a baton-twirler…  I can prepare myself.

On the way to our appointment yesterday morning, this burden felt so heavy and dramatic.  I’m about to find out what the sibling dynamic in our house will be for the rest of our life!  It will be cat-fighting sisters…. or… it will be sweet, handsome younger brother/bossy older sister… The thing is that I know the brother/sister dynamic.  I don’t know the sister/sister dynamic.  I pretty much know how a brother and sister get along.  What about two sisters, though?  What do I know about raising TWO daughters?!  What will I do when they yell that they hate each other?  What will I do when they fight over friends and boys?! I don’t know!!!!  I now know what I can’t control.  More fear is created!

What adds to the oppression of this knowledge is also the “decision” we have made for this to be it. This pregnancy alongside baby Sophia has been so tiring and so hard.  It’s impossible for me right now to imagine being pregnant and chasing around TWO.  But, the weight of that decision feels too final.  It felt okay to make the decision before we knew that this decision would mean we’d never have a son.  It doesn’t have to be final…

Will has had the best encouragement.  He said that God gives us what we need and what we’ll be great at.  Right now, there’s two beautiful, lovely baby girls that need a strong, caring father and a sympathetic, loving mommy.  I may not be able to imagine myself the parent of two cat-fighting sisters… but, I don’t have to.  God gives us babies.  And, He makes us into Mommies.

A Valiant Effort or a Ridiculous Attempt at Mommy Heroism?

Should have sprung for the babysitter… Ever said those words?  Never have I meant them this much!  I may have just had the worst morning of my life!  Torture is what I just put myself through.  I just took Sophia with me on a cleaning trip.  We went to clean the remaining mess of a rent house that we were subleasing.  I knew that this would be a near ridiculous attempt, i.e. I knew it would be disastrous to bring Sophia along, but I didn’t realize the details of just how it would look.

So, our only tasks: clean the refrigerator and the oven.  That’s not too bad, right?  I didn’t think so.  I brought toys for Sophia and cleaning supplies for me.  I had NO IDEA that she wouldn’t be interested in toys but only in cleaning supplies.  It’s like she had Never Seen A Spray Bottle!  It must be her age… Every single thing I did, she wanted to do, too.  Beside me or in front of me, she had to be doing exactly what I was doing.  I was wiping down the outside of the fridge; she wanted to.  I was cleaning inside the fridge; she wanted to.  I was cleaning inside the oven; she wanted to.  I gave her a dry rag and let her follow me around, but that wasn’t good enough.  She wanted to get inside the fridge.  If I was doing something on the counter, she was crying and pulling on my clothes…

Here I thought was a good idea: While I was cleaning fridge shelves in the sink, I let her crawl inside the empty fridge… HOW WAS I TO KNOW THAT SHE IS DEATHLY AFRAID OF THE FRIDGE DOOR?!  Everytime it came near her, she’d flail and scream with horror!  She also couldn’t get herself out of the fridge.  Of course, I think that this is a good time to teach her, “If you get yourself into a mess, you’ve got to get yourself out of it.”  After 5 minutes of continuous screaming and crying, I rescue her from the godforsaken fridge… only for her to crawl back in it and scream and scream again!!!  Okay, fridge shut.  Right?  No!  This began 1 hour of the most pitiful toddler-screaming-crying-tantrum-fit I have EVER seen!  Tears pouring, chest heaving, snot rolling… What can I do to help her?  I first thought that I need to let this tantrum go, and she’ll eventually get calm.  She’ll realize that I won’t let her get in the fridge with me… Let it go.  Nope.  She can’t possibly be this stubborn!

Wow.  There’s nothing else to say.  I should’ve gotten a sitter… Something to be said about learning things.  Here’s something else I learned: We will NEVER house an indoor animal.  I just cleaned dog hair out of the freezer.  Tell me, please, how did dog hair get in the freezer?!!!!!