Sunday, February 22, 2015

‘Second kid’ ride is at a much slower speed


There’s a great ad campaign by Luvs, the diaper line, where they show moms’ experiences with “first kids” and “second kids.”
One commercial shows a little girl approaching a first-time mom asking to hold the baby. The mom asks the girl to put anti-germ lotion on her hands, and then her arms and then on her neck and … well you get the idea. Then the ad reverts to the “second kid” experience, where she hands her baby to a greasy-handed mechanic while she roots around in her purse for her checkbook.
Yeah, I can definitely see how this parallel is going to play out in my household.
This pregnancy is completely different than the first rodeo. I’m healthy and blessedly not plagued by morning sickness, so there’s a lot to be thankful for — but there are differences.
For one, my energy level is nowhere near where it was four years ago for “first kid.” Back then, I was working nights and could work 12 hours, stay up until 2 a.m., get six hours of sleep and go back at it.
This time around, I get winded if I walk from one end of the house to the other. I’m not sure if it’s because we have a child already or if it’s a reflection of my age (I am days away from turning 37), but half the time I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack truck.
For “first kid,” I dragged my husband to every baby store within a 60-mile radius, creating registries and lists and researching every product from soaps to car seats.
This go-round, I’m hoping that a throwing everything from “first kid” into the dishwasher or washing machine will be adequate prepping.
For “first kid,” we did that cutesy thing where we photographed my tummy from the side to document the growing bump, as my flat(ish) tummy expanded slowly but surely. Of course we posted the whole album on Facebook toward the end to share all our obnoxious happiness with the world.
This time, I was nearly ecstatic that my condition would explain away my fat. I’m four months along now, and I like to think that my pregnancy is finally catching up to my girth. (I’ve looked four months pregnant for about a year now.)
But let’s not dwell too much on the negative — there are awesome things about “second kid” already. For one, I’m not nearly as nervous as the first time. Everything is much more laid-back, which allows for a much lower stress level. I also know what I can and can’t do, meaning no fretting with 500 questions at each doctor visit. And this time a planned C-section takes away a lot of anxiety about the birth.
Yes, “second kid” is being very kind to me, as if he or she can already sense that Momma needs to catch a break. Love that kid.
— Sarah Leach is editor of The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com or on Twitter @SentinelLeach.

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Big boy breaks in a big bed


In parenting, there are big victories, and then there are little ones.
And any self-respecting mother will not quibble over the mini-ones. A win is a win. Period.
In the midst of Pregnancy Prep 2.0, one of the instructions I got from the doctor was to avoid lifting objects of 40 pounds or more. (At the time my pregnancy was confirmed, an ovarian cyst also was discovered, hence the extra precaution.)
The only problem? My 3-year-old weighs 35 pounds and is growing like a weed. Compound that with the fact that he’s still sleeping in the crib in the nursery, which in exactly 6 months, will be occupied by a new resident.
So we had to act fast to get our toddler moved to his new “big boy” room.
I know changing spaces at this age can be a delicate process, so I constructed an elaborate plan that spanned several weekends.
First, I needed to clear out all the clutter and junk that was residing in that room. Next, we moved in the bed and dresser, bought a new mattress and got fresh bedding.
Next, I moved all his clothes into that room, so he would start to realize it was his space, at least on some level and that we needed to go in there for part of his daily routine.
He seemed indifferent to the whole process, and I remained skeptical that this transition would happen prior to Number 2’s arrival.
So I sweetened the pot and moved all his toys over. That seemed to get his attention. Suddenly he was splitting his time between the “big boy” room and the “regular” room.
Within the next week, I dared to test out if he was willing to sleep in the new space.
When I turned out the lights for the first time, he freaked and said it was too dark. I had a stroke of genius and grabbed the small string of Christmas lights from the nursery and plugged it in.
And that was it. Seriously. All that build up; I was totally prepared for psychological warfare stretched out over months.
Like I said, a win is a win. I won’t be looking this gift horse in the mouth.
— Sarah Leach is editor of The Holland Sentinel. Contact her at sarah.leach@hollandsentinel.com or find her on Twitter @SentinelLeach.