My firstborn loved her newborn baby sister. LOVED. I couldn?t blame her: The baby was tiny, precious perfection. Her fingernails were like miniature seashells, translucent and round. Her arms and legs were curled up into her body, still downy, and her feet were wrinkled and purplish. She seemed so small and fragile and feather-light next to the giant, noisy, calamitous two-year-old who loved her so dearly.
And just like that, as the baby books had warned, the love that had focused entirely on my firstborn doubled to encompass the new baby. Love is magic like that?its growth potential is unlimited. My patience and attention, though" Not so much. Very much finite. A limited resource. So, when the toddler pelted into a room to show me something, just as a milk-drunk newborn had dropped off to sleep in my weary arms" My jangled nerves leapt to stop the attack.
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How to tackle double bedtime when you?re alone with a toddler and a baby?No, no, no! Shh. Softly, softly, please. The baby?s sleeping. You can?t climb up right now. How about here, beside me" Gently. Not so loud. Sit here, beside me, just slowly. No, no, no! Hands off! YOU CAN?T TOUCH HER EYE!?
Too late. The baby?s eyelid peeled back like the flap on the How Many Bugs in a Bo...