Like Sunday Morning

Infants are easy.  They eat, they sleep, they poop.  They scream when they're upset, and they lie there (and sometimes scream) when they're happy.  As long as you can deal with a crying little person who can't tell you what's wrong, infants are cake.

And toddlers are easy, too, right?  They can talk, so they can actually tell you what's bothering them.  They can understand you, so you can tell them why certain things are good and certain things are bad.  And they've been around long enough that they've established a certain routine.  You know when they'll want to eat, sleep, and play.  Heck, they can even take care of themselves most of the time!  Toddlers are a breeze.

There's a part of me that actually believes all of this.  The fact that we have an infant and a toddler in our home - crying at all hours or pulling utensils out of drawers, pooping constantly or refusing to pee in the potty - and we are not only surviving but feel relatively in control of the situation makes me think that if we only had one child, it would have to be easy.

I vaguely remember when Simon was an infant.  Like being on that inaugural Jurassic Park tour, it really feels like a lifetime ago, even though it was only a few years.  Everything feels longer when the power goes out and the raptors escape, or you have a second baby.

And now we're teaching Simon to control his bladder while Cecily learns to control her neck.  While I wouldn't say it's easy, it's not hard.  It's just a little more chaotic, and a little more man-to-man defense.  But it's doable, and it's easier, and it's fun.  It's fun to see Simon hold his little sister's hand and give her his toys by putting them on her stomach.  It's fun to try and see if our little baby can track our head movements.  It's fun to be parents.  Having a second kid just means being more of a parent.

Parents with three kids, though?  I can't imagine what kind of mosh pit of anarchy that must be like.