Back Home Again in Indiana
The problem with popping out your first child is you know nothing. The problem with popping out your second child is you know too much.
I distinctly remember thinking while Boogs was on the inside (and shortly after he was on the outside) that I couldn’t even imagine having to yell at him for anything ever. He was just this tiny little baby; what kind of trouble could he possibly get into? Was choosing a middle name even necessary? But now that we’re 6 years in, I can imagine all the ways I’d have to yell at him and choosing a middle name was not only necessary, we probably should have doubled down and given him four. This means that while we’re trying to decide what to name Lucy, I’m not only thinking if the first, middle, and last name sound okay together or if the initials make bad words, I’m also thinking about how yellable they are. Are they names that will make her cut the crap or do they sound so non-threatening that she’ll just roll her eyes and continue on with her poor choices?
The other thing I know way too much about this time is the childbirth process. How once that epidural wears off, it’s game over. I won’t be able to walk right for months, and this time we have stairs. I have grave concerns about the stairs. Especially in the middle of the night when I’m trying to hurry to get to the kitchen to get a bottle and then back upstairs to stop the crying before Boogser is wide awake and I have two of them to deal with. And somewhere in there a diaper change needs to happen. Do I change her diaper before I get the bottle and then just take her downstairs with me? But if I’m just-popped-out-a-baby shuffling down the stairs, how terrible of an idea is carrying her down the stairs with me? Do we put a mini fridge in her room? Do we finally make Jesse’s dream come true and get one of those stair wheelchairs? What are the options?
Also on the list of things I can’t unknow this time around: the level of exhaustion. If there’s one thing people love to tell you when you’re knocked up, it’s “sleep now because you won’t once the baby’s here” like stockpiling sleep is a thing you can do. Yet despite these endless warnings, you’re 1000% unprepared for just how exhausting a newborn is. At one point with Boogser, Jesse was so tired he saw a giant Boogs head on my body. The man straight up hallucinated from lack of sleep. So serious question: if I sell an organ or two, will that be enough to fund a night nurse? And if so, for how long? Because I have a lot of organs and I’m not convinced I really need them all.
And then, of course, there’s the bodily fluids. Spit up, pee, poop. . .it’s all about to come in hot and none of my clothes are ready for it. Of course, they’re not ready for Boogser’s Cheetos hands either but they’re surviving. Thanks, Tide*!
*This post is not sponsored by Tide but does remain open to it.