I had suspected, but I can now say with certainty that everything is just harder with 2 kids. Talking to my boss on the phone is a laxative. Each and every time I try to speak with him, Stella gets naked and typically poops. He’s like a brown note for her. I guess her young little ears can hear him through the phone and BOOM. I really ought to utilize this for potty training. As it is now, we will sit on the potty for up to an hour at a time without making a deposit. I’m afraid to just let her go bare-bottomed as that’s like waiting for the anvil to drop.
Showers are harder. It’s disgusting but I’ve had to go 3.5 days without bathing. Talk about not feeling good about yourself! Short of dragging Stella into the shower with me and just hoping Felix doesn’t get too agitated, I don’t know how to manage that without help. I am on the verge of trying the shower trick. Maybe it’ll work. I’m still trying to figure out when I can do stuff like paint my toenails. It takes forever to get Stella to bed and by the time I do, I’m yawning and don’t feel like doing it. Then there’s the whole not wanting to get in bed with damp toenails….
Housework continues to be awkward to do. I can put Felix in the Bjorn but have you ever had to sweep or unload a dishwasher that way? It can be done but it takes longer and you have to totally use different methods than you would if you were unfettered. It’s like being pregnant again, only your center of gravity is totally different. You can’t see a damn thing in front of you, either. You end up cocked to the side like an Egyptian painting. I guess this is also why the uterus is not located in our sternums. Early knocked up women would not have been able to feed themselves while gestating! Regardless, I wouldn’t sell my Bjorn for all the money in the Louisiana State Budget (HA!) and I feel like a bloody champion when I manage to accomplish what should be impossible, such as bathing Stella while Felix sort of naps on my chest without having him get soaked or brained.
And Stella is still Stella. She’s an action-packed 2.5 year old little girl. I find that the following words and phrases come out of my mouth all-too often:
Stella, stop touching the baby swing!
Stella, watch out for baby Felix!
Stella, please poop in the potty!
Stella, stop kicking (baby Felix)!
Stella, please don’t get naked right now/leave your diaper on!
Stella, please don’t pull every book/toy off the shelf.
Stella, remember Felix is reaallllly little!
Stella, do you have to potty? Let’s sit on the potty.
Occasionally I threaten the now-dreaded “time out,” during which I drag her screaming to her room and stand outside and hold the door shut for about 2 minutes. It occurs to me: Why can’t parents put ourselves in time out?? The kids hate it. We hate doing it. We, unlike the kids, would actually ENJOY even a couple of minutes of solitude and blissful quiet. Why can’t we invert this equation?
Better go. Stella is about to peel all 6 of the bananas on the counter.