Our first few weeks as parents of two...

I feel silly talking about how hard it seems to be to have two children- it seems like everyone else handles it with such ease and finesse. I know plenty of people with three, four, even more children and when they add a new baby, I never see the adjustment wearing on them.

Maybe "hard" isn't exactly the right word. But let's just say the productivity around here has declined significantly. Basically, I have three goals each day: Do a load of laundry, write a thank-you note, and one other thing. That last thing varies from day to day- one day it was changing the sheets, the next day it was vacuuming the furniture and rugs, the next day it was changing the sheets. (Note: when co-sleeping with an infant, place a towel between her and the sheets. They tend to ooze from every orifice.) As long as I get these three things done, I feel like I'm keeping up. Minimally. But nonetheless- it keeps overwhelm at bay. It's fun to fantasize about the next day's "one other thing" and how it will brighten one small corner of the house. Today I'm going to sweep and vacuum the playroom, although I considered allowing this blog entry to be my "one other thing." We'll see how it goes.

How is Zephyr adjusting to life with a baby sister? His volume seems to have increased, for one. That's okay- I'm sure Jubilee will appreciate the skill of being able to sleep through tornados when she's older. He has already given her more spontaneous kisses in her short lifetime than he's given me in his. Also, he likes telling her things. For instance, yesterday he went on an excursion to get sheep poop for the garden with Dada, Conor, and Mike. He came back, got about an inch from Jubilee's face, and proceeded to tell her all about it. "Pigs are dangerous, Ju-a-bee. They bite people. Don't eat sheep poop. Don't eat sheep poop. Don't eat sheep poop, Ju-a-bee. Don't eat marshmallows. I eat marshmallows. You're a baby. Babies can't eat marshmallows." The whole time, she's giving this focused blank look, and I'm wondering what she's thinking. 'What are pigs? What's bite? What's a sheep? What's poop? What's eat?'

Last night at dinner, Zephyr impressed us with this insight: "Ju-a-bee doesn't know she's a baby."

Unless you're an insider, the connection between sheep poop and marshmallows must seem random, but unsurprising for a 2 1/2 year old. There actually is some logic behind it, though. Around the middle of December, Zephyr dug out an unopened bag of mini-marshmallows from the pantry, which, I'm ashamed to admit, had expired in April. I'm not sure why it made the move with us in May. But, as it turns out, I'm grateful. He wanted to eat one, and I told him he could after he pooped on the potty. He really wanted to eat a marshmallow, and finally, on Christmas Eve, he did it! Jon and I think he gave us the best gift ever, as anyone who has changed toddler's poopy diapers can attest. He was so proud, walking around with that first marshmallow. "I hope I like it!" he exclaimed before popping it into his mouth. He still asks for marshmallows about 80% of the time, and we're happy to give them to him. It's a big bag.

The night before last was a rough one- there were only about two hours when we were all in the bed, at least partially asleep. So yesterday, I was definitely having a mental deficit day, which resulted in made-up words. "Don't forget to take Jessica her non-skillet," I reminded Jon, who made the quick translation, realized I meant her cast iron dutch oven, and nodded. "It's not a skillet," he told me when I complained that I was losing my mind, "so you're right. That's a perfectly fine thing to call it." Later, I was admiring Zephyr after Jon had dressed him in a turtleneck and overalls for their farm excursion. "He looks so cute in his adorables," I cooed. "He is adorable," Jon again justified my odd verbalization.

Zephyr made up one of his own words the other day- misappear, instead of disappear. "Is that like when something shows up where it's not supposed to be?" Jon queried. My mom bought a new phone charger the other day after losing hers; I asked her to let me know if it misappears one day.

One more little anecdote. The other day in the car Zephyr suddenly started to complain:
Z: There's milk on my hand! Wipe it off!
N: I'll wipe it off when we stop. (pause) How did you get milk on your hand?
Z: It's from Ju-a-bee!
N: Is it spit-up?
Z: Yes! Ju-a-bee put it there!
N: Maybe you should keep your hands away from her mouth.
Z: Ju-a-bee put milk on my hand!

Jon and I shake our heads, remembering the peaceful environment we provided Zephyr in his babyhood, wondering how these older brother antics will affect Jubilee's psyche. As younger children ourselves, we turned out okay, so presumably she will, too.