I love you all the time

Little Corcoran will be here in less than four months. And this baby, while he will be as loved and cherished as Declan, hasn't made quite the impact on my psyche as Declan did. There's just nothing like being pregnant for the first time. Everything was about me. I did exactly what I wanted when I wanted. I felt completely entitled to any emotional outburst or demand because I was going through something so profound. We agonized over Declan's name, took all kinds of classes, and I studied up feverishly on all things baby. I made my birth plan and researched cribs. Rich and I planned out how we'd tackle the first weeks. I spent hours and hours picking out baby bedding. The baby was ushering in a whole new world of things we'd decide and every decision was a huge one.

There was nothing as transformative for me as the year after Declan was born. And while I spent the first few months in the new mom perfection bubble trying to do everything I so staunchly believed was all important: breast feeding, sleep training, cuddling, and I'd even try to read my two month old books because I read that if I watched TV with him it could stunt his mental growth. This was my time. These were my decisions, and like when I was pregnant, everything was a do or die decision, everything was of the utmost importance.

And I think that's where the mom superiority thing comes in. You know those moms who spout their convictions like water, thinking their opinions are facts because they read them somewhere. They create hierarchies of good and bad parenting based on what a book tells them, and you only hear about it when they need to inform you of the "right" way. Oh, I think you know who I'm talking about. It's inevitable with such an important task that it becomes a consuming, polarizing experience that for some evolves into lecturing and a laughable haughtiness that can only come from a mother.

And the biggest thing I've learned in the past two years is what kind of mom I am. And, how to adapt to circumstance. My son is a flaming ball of energy, love, and demands. And I think if I'd have clung onto the idea of any kind of perfection, I would be miserable. I just don't do perfection, I don't have a perfect body, or perfect hair or completely groomed nails all the time. Why would I expect myself to completely transform into some idea of what is the "best" way to be?

So, this time around, my newborn will probably be "enriched" less but will have the benefit of a mom who can see the wisdom of imperfection, adaptation, and going with the flow. Yes, Declan was the only naked swimmer (with a life vest) at a play group this week and he did make a firetruck siren sound at the top of his lungs through Dillon's yesterday, but fighting those things takes more than it's worth. At least that's the kind of mom I am. I pick my battles. And, frankly, I lose some of them too. But at least what my kids will get is something genuine and not someone else's idea of perfection.

And just for some giggles, the next Justin Timberlake:

So this is why...

I wanted a girl so badly: I love my sister. She is probably the only person besides Rich and Declan that I can stand to be around 24/7. I don't get to see her or share ice cream or watch Project Runway or shop with her enough. I look forward to her visits for months and afterward, spend hours on the phone with her every week. I'm a sister addict. And this is how I envisioned my relationship with my own daughter. Me, me, me.

But now that I'm a mom, sometimes it's not about me. Ha! It's never about me, come on. And I'm starting to realize that the brother relationship between Oooh and Declan could be as close as mine with Jess. Not that it's always been this way. Back in the late 80's/Debbie Gibson era, Jessica was the absolute coolest and I was her super dork little sister. I'll never forget when she and her friend Jennifer caught me practicing my New Kids moves in the mirror and mocked me mercilessly for hours. Or when she found my secret diary, read it, and then wrote a response letting me know that the boy I secretly loved couldn't possibly love me back because he never called (I was in second grade, I think). Oh the shame! And I think brothers can be worse.


But, if Declan's utter devotion and affection for his cousin Charlie is any indication of what type of brother he'll be, this little kiddo is in major luck. Declan has come a long way in eight months. He can take turns, he shares, overall he's a really sweet friend these days. And you would have thought Declan had found his two year old soul mate in Charlie. Every morning Declan woke up before Charlie (and everyone else in the house, dammit) and I had to hold him off for at least 45 minutes before I'd let him into see Charlie. And then he'd lay right next to Charlie, practically nose to nose. To which Charlie inevitably cracked and then closed his eyes tight, pretending to still be sleeping. Then Dec would lay there and say over and over again,
"wake up Charlie, let's go plaaaaay". Every morning for 10 days. Never did he want to just hang out with me. Never had he had enough of his cousin. And now, even six days after they left, he is still asking where Charlie is and when he's coming back.


There are dozens of funny stories I could tell about the cousins: jumping on the bed naked, giving hugs and kisses, riding in the shopping cart together, that effing firetruck book they both had to have all the time, but I have to say my favorite thing was just watching Declan's enthusiasm for his guest. Now by the end, D was definitely less controlled, more grabby, and exhausted in general, but as far as he's concerned, Charlie is his buddy. Hopefully Char feels the same and Dec isn't his nerdy, New Kid loving little cousin. The good news is that if he is, Declan will just tackle him and pin him down until he agrees to be friends. You can tame the beast, but sometimes nature just takes over.