The thing is, we're expecting another baby! A baby boy, to be born sometime mid to late February. Holy cow, what are we getting ourselves into?! Life is so peaceful and kind of . . . easy, I guess, right now. We sleep for long stretches at night, I'm finally reading books again . . . and all of that will go away again soon. It's not real enough yet to me - the fact of the baby, that is, to get past my own selfish motivations just yet. There are so many things that I was looking forward to. Like life with maybe a holiday jigsaw puzzle. Keeping the contents of each cabinet actually in the cabinets. Things like that.
But I know that the closer it gets, and especially when he's born, all of that will leave my mind, the way the ocean washes away footprints in the tide, like they never were. I'll hold him in his pink newness, and fall completely in love all over again, just like I did with Joshua.
And by the way, if you ask him, Joshua will actually tell you that he also has a baby in his tummy. He'll then lovingly and gently pat himself, like it's his own little secret growing in there.
And if the reality of adding a new member to the family hasn't sunk in yet for me, I wonder what thoughts the rest of the family has about it. Tim tells me how much he loves the new baby already, and will stay awake even when I'm sleeping, just to feel him kick and move. (What a mighty gymnast we already must have in there!) Joshua is . . . well, he's as careful as a two-year-old can be. Which is to say, he remembers not to kick my ever-swelling belly only when I remind him. But he does lift my shirt sometimes to say "hello, baby in Mama's tummy," and then give it a big kiss. How precious and wonderful a big brother he will be! Is it real for them, yet, or will that come later . . . when we're changing poopy diapers every 38 seconds, and the life is being sucked out of me one nursing session at a time?!
Speaking of poopy diapers . . . just what you wanted to hear about, right? Well, I'm hoping that they'll soon go by the wayside. In Joshua's case, that is. We're on day two of potty-training, and I'm ready to throw in the towel. Because the thing is? I'm ready for him to be done. Is it unrealistic for my heart's desire to be for him to potty-train himself in the next day or two? That's what I yearn for, and see creeping away, minute by wet-underwear minute. Because while I expected accidents . . . I didn't really expect accidents. I just am not emotionally stable enough as a pregnant lady for all of this. Well, maybe that's a bit melodramatic . . . Tim and I are both patient, and gentle and kind. (Tim more so than myself at times.) But toward the end a day in which the kitchen timer has gone off every 30 minutes to remind us that it's potty-time - well I feel myself creeping toward the edge of insanity. It's because I'm such a neurotic perfectionist, I know, and I don't want to adversely affect Joshua with that. But seriously, there should be an order to things. Timer goes off . . . run to bathroom . . . pants and underwear off . . . sit on potty . . . do business . . . get down, pants on . . . flush . . . wash hands . . . sticker on chart. Why can't it just be that simple?! Why in the name of all that is good, do we have to play hide and seek with the shower curtain? Why do we have to play with (and subsequently drop into the toilet) a toy car?? Why do we have to incessantly bang the step stool on the floor and yell "bang, bang, bang"?????? AAAAARGH!!!
Whew, I'm calming down. And the next entry I make . . . well, we'll hopefully have a fully potty-trained son. Either that or you can forward all of my mail to the loony bin.
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