I remember a life before our Toffee. It involved uninterrupted nights of sleep. It was free from nappies and spit cloths and I didn’t have to break my arms lugging around a car seat with a chubby baby in it. The boot of my car was pram-free and my days of smelling like baby vomit were behind me.
My Kid was 5, he was long out of nappies, was almost able to wipe his own ass and was reasonably self-sufficient. I could do things like shower, read a book and cook dinner without too much hassle. All that changed last May with the arrival of one times Toffee baby. Suddenly my life was filled with nappies and wet wipes and bum cream and bottles again.
We didn’t plan to have The Toffee. Nor did we plan *not* to have him, either. We’d vaguely discussed having another, and (apparently I alone made this choice) decided to let whatever was meant to be, happen. Less than a month later, I was pregnant. I remember standing in a bathroom stall in Rosebank Mall and waiting for the pregnancy test to do *something*. A friend from work was on the other side of the door, and she verified against the packaging that two solid blue lines was a positive.
My husband hoped for a girl. As did I. I wanted to give him what he wanted. Instead, we got a smaller carbon copy of our firstborn. Two boys.
At first he was a dream baby. Slept through, easily. Never cried, never fussed. I often forgot he was there, once he was born. When I left the house, I often had to stop the car and peer in the backseat to see if I had, in fact, put him in the car.
At six-ish months, all that changed with teething. It was hard for him. Those two bottom teeth caused him much misery. He found his voice and used it to cry. A lot. He woke frequently at night. He was exhausting. Inconsolable.
I’d forgotten how much hard work a baby is. He’s started on solids and is interested in everything that we eat. He’s indignant if he doesn’t get some of whatever’s going and so far he loves cream cheese, frozen grapes and provita crackers. He’s also quite into strawberry yoghurt and dry wors.
He started crawling a few weeks ago. But he still can’t sit without falling over. He’s also started pulling himself up on things around him, to stand. Before learning how to sit up. That’s my kid, all right. Doing things out of order.
He’s loved being in the pool these last few days. Kicking his legs and laughing at all the splashing that goes on. He adores the dogs and they adore him in return. I was a bit worried about my pekingese, but she’s shown herself to be gentle, patient and very protective of the baby.
He’s besotted with his big brother. Can’t keep his eyes off him. The three of us bath together every night (since The Toffee can’t sit by himself in the bath, my presence is required) and it’s awesome to see how much they love each other, already.
I’d worried, while I was still a mother of one, about whether or not I’d be able to love someone else the way I loved my firstborn.
I needn’t have worried. The Toffee has brought so much extra love into our family. So much extra work, laundry and mess; but all of it worthwhile.