In the early weeks after Dash's arrival, I could not believe how much harder having two children felt than having one. Admittedly, Ella was a pretty easy baby. She slept well and ate well and was generally pleasant and patient. The summer she was born I remember as a rather blissful, dreamy time of roadtrips, lunches out with friends, and shopping excusions, all with her cuddled up in her little seat, just along for the ride. But I also remember that she was still a baby with all the attendant baby needs! She got tired, she got fussy in the evenings, she needed to eat every two hours and needed to be rocked at inconvienent times, and she even had her share of 3 am parties. Even so, I was not prepared, not even a little bit, for handling all those baby needs on top of toddler needs.
Dash was a good newborn, too. But dear lord, having a newborn and a toddler was hard work in the early months. There was very little blissful enjoyment of the world with him. From the moment he came home from the hospital, Ella needed snacks and naps and potty breaks and clean clothes to wear. It felt like someone always needed something, and more often than not, two someones needed two somethings at the exact same time.
My least favorite moments were finally getting Dash latched on to nurse at the exact moment Ella would chose to poop and need help with wiping (some jobs just cannot be trusted to a two year old). Or when Dash's evening scream-fest would coincide exactly with Ella's lovely, sweet nighttime routine on a night when only one of us was home to put them both down to bed. I would find myself in tears, not knowing which meltdown to attend to first so I'd just add a third one, my own, to the heap.
One late winter morning when Dash must have been about 3 months old, Ella was at preschool and I decided to take advantage of the sunny sky and slightly warmer temperatures to take Dash along for the kind of morning-of-leisure I remembered having with Ella. I was determined that he and I could have a little fun instead of spending our few remaining days of my maternity leave on household survival missions like running endless errands or folding bottomless baskets of preschool and baby laundry. We went to Guglhupf, a lovely little cafe in Durham, where I ordered a hot chocolate and a pastry and sat down on the patio to enjoy a bit of peace with my peaceful boy. No sooner had I taken a bite of that croissant than my phone rang. It was, predictably, the preschool director calling to tell me that Ella was complaing about "a sore tongue" (seriously?) and needed to be picked up. So much for blissful pastry eating with my newborn. There were preschool germs to deal with. And so off we went.
Finally, though, Dash is almost 9 months old and I'm starting to see that 1+1 is not always >>>>> 2 times the work and effort and emotion. There are moments now when Ella entertains Dash, for 30 seconds or a whole minute, and his adoring, ear-to-ear smile as he watches her twirl, march, and sing tells me that there is a big ole bright light at the end of the two kid tunnel. There will be times, many more in the future, I expect, when their attention is on each other. They will amuse and entertain each other and I might have a minute to myself during their waking hours (or even 10! What would I even do with 10 minutes to myself at 4 pm on a Tuesday? Is Oprah still on?). I know there will be fights and tears and rivalries. But right now, I'm imagining the fun they will have together, the secrets they will share, the mischief they will make. All while I'm on the couch letting out a big ole deep breath that I took in 9 months ago and haven't yet fully exhaled.
