|here we are sucking our thumb and sleeping.|
As anyone with more than one child can attest, weathering this maelstrom of hormones doesn't get any easier when you already have an outside child running around, colouring on your walls, begging for your attention. Ethan and I have seen through our mornings all too often lately with me napping while he watches cartoons on my laptop. Charlie and Lola on Netflix has saved my life more often than I care to admit.
The part of pregnancy, though, that is hardest for me is the fact that feeling tired and sick and sore makes me lethargic. Part of me wants to go outside and go on walks and go swimming and try to get in short runs with Ethan in the jogger again. But most of me just wants to want these things. Lovely as I know they are, these pursuits feel entirely unappealing when your hips and back ache, and your round ligaments protest every time you want to stand up, and you get to enjoy the sporadic pain of that just-kicked-in-the-crotch feeling that comes as one of pregnancy's many little gifts.
And yet, come the end of December, I'll have a tiny new person to bring home. Someone else with my nose and my eyes (in shape, if not in colour), and my lips, and my hands. (Seriously, I need to find pictures to prove just how much Ethan reminds me of myself at his age.) It's an exciting prospect. We've already been trying to get Ethan psyched about the idea of getting a new baby. The Husband and I between us have read him There's Going To Be A Baby more times than I can count, and I have Ethan trained to point at my stomach whenever I ask, 'where is Mummy's baby?' Every baby under 6 months that I see is an object lesson for my little boy: 'Look, Ethan! There's a tiny baby. You're going to get a tiny baby at the end of the year!' I don't think he really gets it yet, but he does enjoy seeing the babies. He gave the 5-day-old little brother of a friend at playgroup the most adorable kiss on the top of the head yesterday. I was impressed with how gentle he was.
So there it is: my newest beginning is as the mother of more than one child. If all else is an abject failure, at least I know I can competently carry a newborn in one arm whilst dragging an angry toddler along with the other. Some skills you just gotta learn.