I will spare you the, "I can't believe how fast it has gone," phrases because, truth bomb... It feels like it has been a year. Cyrus is a wonderful addition to our family--patient, sweet, happy, and predictable. He loves his schedule and I feel like I hit the jackpot. Despite all of these wonderful compliments I can pay to him and to the God who made this precious boy for me to love, when I think back to that first week when my mom was here and I cried when she left...that feels like a lifetime ago. When I think back to that time I took Scarlett out to lunch just as pregnant as I could be and I knew it was the last time she and I would have mommy and me time alone, that feels like a century ago. I can confidently say I know why these 3 months have felt so long. I have really had to live in the moment every day to make it work with having two young children. I watch the clock in fervent hope that the hours between 4pm and 6pm will fly by somehow and Texan will appear in the doorway to hold Cyrus so I can do some dishes. I can't tell you how many moments I have held captive in my mind as I nurse Cyrus, cross my legs, and bounce Scarlett on my top leg shouting the lyrics to, "Camp Town Ladies" while she "rides the horsey." And it probably took me a good 3 weeks to get good and used to waking up and immediately changing two very soggy, wet overnight diapers, feeding both dogs, presenting Scarlett with her intravenous chocolate milk ration, and all finding time for me to pee. Some mornings I admit it was the dogs who whined and whined and didn't get breakfast until noon because I just forgot they were alive. And some mornings I wouldn't even realize as I poured my third cup of coffee that I was doing "the potty dance" as we called it growing up. Staying awake until naptime started to take precedence over my bladder at one point, but we're back on track now. And the dogs are still alive. Calm down.
Cyrus weighs 15 pounds and 11 ounces as of yesterday (fully dressed) at his doctor's appointment. I took him in for a cough to make sure he didn't have any infection. Thankfully (I guess) it is just something that has to run its course. His hobbies include very loudly sucking on his hands, scratching his forehead, wearing mittens to protect his forehead, and smiling and cooing at anyone (or no one) who smiles at him. A true testament to his temperament occurred yesterday at his appointment. I began to nurse him about 5 minutes before the doctor entered the room, so I had to pull him off and let the doctor inspect his ears, nose, lungs, and throat. I fully expect that being forced to quit nursing almost as soon as you've started would make even the happiest of babies a little annoyed. But as soon as I propped him up onto my shoulder for the doctor to look in his ears, he smiled and cooed at his doctor, who said that he couldn't believe how social he was at so young. Cyrus takes so much delight in making eye contact with people. I love watching him smile and make other people smile back. Cyrus goes to bed by 9-9:45, wakes up once a night to nurse, then once in the early morning between 6 an 7. Then he goes back to bed until about 10.
Having a video monitor that switches between the children's rooms is the best. I remember sending Scarlett to sleep in her own room made me so anxious because I wanted to do about 30 visual checks throughout the night. Now having the monitor I feel good knowing I can see them if I want and hear them when they call. When I found out I was pregnant with Cyrus my biggest fear of having children so close together is that 2-year-olds don't always do what we expect them to do. So even though Scarlett sleeps through the night 99.9% of the time, there is still that small window of chance that she will have the whole house awake one night. And it finally happened 2 night ago. It began like any normal evening. Texan read Scarlett "Donald Duck's Day in the Kitchen" before bed and said good night. I delivered her Doggy to her and sang her Baa, Baa black goat (because she loves goats and sheep are so last century) and turned off the light. Cyrus was in bed at his normal time and Texan and I we in bed by 11.
Then.
A cry in the night. MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA.
I went into Scarlett's room and laid in her bed because I was too disoriented to ask what was wrong or turn on a light. I rubbed her back and shh'd her. When I left the room I closed the door and checked on Cyrus. Still sleeping.
Then a shout.
MOMMY!
Now I was really awake and so was Cyrus.
I opened her door, turned on her lamp and asked her what was the matter. She mumbled something with her thumb in her mouth and pointed at her book shelf. "See the books, Mom?" she asked. "Donald is in the kitchen." I thought she must be talking in her sleep so I asked her if she wanted me to read it to her. "Okaaaaay," she said with a smile. NO WAY. Those were my words. NOT A CHANCE. She wanted me to read her a book at 1:30 in the morning. Or, possibly, sleep-talk Scarlett did. I informed both Scarletts that we don't read books when it's time to sleep and I did my best to sound patient and loving... and I closed the door to more of her cries. I stood in the hallway rubbing my eyes as both my children cried and my husband dreamt of...what do husbands dream of when they are sleeping through mayhem? Someone find out and get back to me. She was back to sleep within 30 seconds and Cyrus nursed for about 10 minutes and my nightmare was over just like that. The next evening when Texan got home from work I asked him if he had heard all the crying the night before and he, of course, said no. I told him Scarlett had asked me to read the Donald book to which he replied, "I read her that book before bed. It's REALLY a good book." So, that's what I get. A book review. I know it's a good book, people. It rhymes, it's funny, and it has a great rhythm. My dad used to read it like an auctioneer, loudly and in a southern accent while I clapped in time. This blog post has gone so very far from where it started.
I'm sure there are plenty of nights in our future with teething and other developmental strains that will cause me to have dark circles under my eyes, but for now I am in Heaven every time I hear my babies whimper from across the hall--because this is the time in my life where they love me more than anything and they need me for just about everything. And just like every elderly person has told me: I am going to miss these days so very, very much. These are the best days (and nights) of my life.
Funny things that Scarlett says:
Every time I sneeze: "God besh-oo, Mamma!"
Every time I rub my eyes: "Alright, Momma? Just tired?"
"Oh, come on!" She doesn't quite know how or when this is appropriate but she's practicing incredulity quite nicely.
"That sounds nice!" Mommy Pig (of Peppa) said this the other day, and now Scarlett says it whenever anything hits any of her 5 senses in a pleasant way. Sound doesn't factor in.
"I'm gonna pinch you, MOM!"
"I poop in a diaper and it stinks yuck, MOM?" *sigh* (potty training update: won't)
Every morning: "Have milk and a bar, please." One of my biggest cravings with her was the very same milk and bar combo she wants for breakfast each morning.
Her two big questions right now: "Where are you going, Mom?" when I put her to bed. "What's that noise?" when ANYTHING makes a sound. She even cups her hand by her ear and tries to guess what it is.
