Sibling Rivalry

Q has been more obviously jealous of N lately. I don’t see much deliberately unkind behavior, just distinctly wanting to be on my lap when I’m nursing the baby, pulling the pacifier out of her mouth (actually, that might just be for the fun of popping it back in), demanding that Mommy carry him when I’m already carrying N. I’m being patient with him, trying to accomodate most of his reasonable requests when possible. But I’m wavering between feeling sympathy for his jealousy and a growing suspicion that he’s manipulating my feelings of guilt.

This afternoon, N was in an active awake state, interested in her surroundings, moving her limbs in swimmy movements as she checked out the world. It was time to start Quiet Time, so I brought the kids upstairs and set N down on the bed while I got ready to change Q’s diaper (no, no progress on potty training lately). Q hopped up on the bed and did his usual eye to eye with N, one inch from her nose. He turned a bit away, to tell me something, and she cooed up at him.

She hasn’t cooed at me yet. Around me, yes. While in my arms, yes. Mostly at random pieces of furniture.

But that’s ok. He can be first.

Turnabout

I had a hellish night last night with N. I suspect now (with the benefit of sleep) that she had no interest in nursing, she just didn’t want to sleep in the bouncy seat next to the bed where we’ve nestled her most nights. But at 3am I was in tears with the desire to buy some Nyquil, find a motel room, and sleep for three days.

J was working this afternoon, so I decided I better wear out Q. We took out his trike and chat about triking to the playground at the school next door. Ten feet from our driveway, he stops and tells me, “I’m done.” Um, what? He tells me he wants to just go for a drive. I still want to wear him out. So he and I negotiate and agree to go to the Essex playground, a lovely shady playground with better equipment.

We get there, he plays lacksadaisically for 5 minutes, tops, then says, “Are we done?” I tried to engage him in playing, but he wasn’t having any of it. Laughing (I mean, can you force a toddler to play?), I drove home. I took a long route home. As we got onto familiar roads, Q says quietly, “Don’t go home.” So I give up and drive a little around town. He finally agreed that we should go home, watch ‘In the Night Kitchen’ and then do a quiet time.

Quiet time was three blissful hours of sleep. Afterwards we ate and tried triking to the playground next door again. As we turn onto the school road, he looks up and points out the crescent moon. “That moon is a watermelon.”

I have no idea where that idea came from.

Baby Firsts

N had a first today:

First Time Pooping Around Diaper Onto Mommy’s Shirt While at the Library with no Spare Clothes.

Which reminds me that I need to get a Baby Journal.

Birthday Manners

Presents

Our daughter, not quite 5 weeks of age, slept from 10:30pm till 5am last night. This was after nursing, then being tanked with an additional 3oz of formula, something I would have found reprehensible with my first child. Waking at 5, she nursed, inspected the headboard for approximately 20 minutes, and finding nothing amiss, went back to sleep about 6am.

An hour later, I realized that the slow progression of gradually louder noises had reached the white noise machine next to my bed: the selection bumped from ‘ocean’ to ‘womb’, a sound J describes as “I’m coming to get you! ...Very very slowly, but I’m coming to get you!” It’s nice to know where your preschooler is playing.

Then, abruptly, our dozing was interrupted by a car alarm. We live in one of the safest towns in Connecticut (despite the multiple bank robberies). No one should be setting a car alarm in this town. I was grumpily thinking this when my husband reached over me, grabbed my keys from Q, and turned off the ‘panic’ alarm that he’d just set off on J’s car.

J then looked at the clock and realized that Q had set off the alarm at 7:20am, the exact time of his birth, 3 years earlier.

Happy Birthday, kid. Thanks for reminding us of how lucky we are to have you enter our lives.

Memory

This morning I snuck out of the house for a quick run after nursing the baby, managing to not wake up Q on my way out. When I returned home, I could hear him whining an early morning whine.

I went upstairs and opened his door to make sure I was hearing him right. “I want my balloon!”

His balloon was lost over a week ago. I sat down in his rocker and laughed at him. He couldn’t help himself and grinned back.

Three Moments

Since N’s arrival, one of our sweetest big brother gestures(primarily Q just doesn’t pay that much attention to N) comes from Q stroking his face with N’s hair and announcing that he’s nuzzling N. Very gentle and tender.

Q is in a mildly perverse stage at the moment. Anything you say, eg: “It’s time for dinner,” is met with a contradicting declaration from Q, “It’s not time for dinner.” Sometimes in his own favor, but just as often he’s claiming something he doesn’t want. We’ve taken to using reverse psychology with this (he knows and finds it funny) and telling him to do things by telling him not to do things. Our favorite is, “Q is not going to kiss Mommy.” He begins to grin and says, “I’m going to kiss Mommy.” He kisses my knee and we act horrified and he giggles hysterically and announces he’s going to kiss someone else. (Even N!) Really, he’s in an endearing age.

Which brings me to last night. Sleep schedules are screwed up here. Due to heat, new baby, thunderstorms, you name it. Q woke from a nap at 7:30 last night and we let him sit with us in the den to eat his dinner, all four of us packed onto the couch, watching the Red Sox play the Yankees. So N is in my arms, successfully nursing on the side she tried to rip off recently, and Q gently leans his cheek into her hair once in a while, and I found myself looking down at these two beautiful children and tearing up. These are the moments you hope you can remember forever.