Fun

With three Edie-weeks under my belt, I now have a far greater respect for parents of multiple children.  I always tell first time parents that there's no way that you can prepare yourself for the disruption of having a child.  I'm really smug when I say that.  Because I'm all knowledgeable and worldly.  And an idiot.

I certainly didn't anticipate that adding a second child into the mix would be all that disruptive for me.  Smart people would just look at me with pity, laugh, and make a joke about the challenges of going from zone defense to man-to-man.  I'd just think, "Whatever, old man/lady.   I know what I'm doing here.  I've got this thing nailed."  I barely took a week off of work, I was so sure that this was going to be a cakewalk.  

I clearly didn't fully appreciate the skill that is required to jam the shocker down your screaming baby's throat, while simultaneously yelling at your other child for something stupid like not paying proper attention to your lesson on the appropriate way to hold a pen.

This is bad.  All of this child juggling is tiring.  Really tiring.  The worst part?  When I tell Kitty about how hard this is for me, she doesn't seem to care.  So selfish.  I'm not sure why she's so cranky, with the baby sleeping through the night and all.  Or at least I assume the baby's sleeping through the night.  I can't say for sure, since I'm out cold.   Now that I mention it, though, she's awake every time I look over in the middle of the night, staring into space with red eyes.  Whatever.  Not my problem.  Did I mention I'm tired?

Thank goodness for work.  My respite.  Where I know how to solve the problems.  And where I can spend my days hiding in my email box and getting picture texts from Kitty, playing "guess that stain."

Of course, no matter how much harder it appears to be raising two kids, there's something infinitely more impressive about saying that I've got "kids" instead of "kid".   I've finally got credibility as a parent.  

And that's worth a million mystery stains.