You do get war stories from those that have gone before you. Parents with kid(s). They all say the same thing, for the most part. That it will be easier the second time around. You and your signifigant other will be more laid back. You don't worry as much. That sort of thing. They are right, too. It is true. However, what they fail to warn you about is the strange guilt you will experience as you graduated from Married with Child, to Children. No one I know ever mentioned this to me and my Lovely Bride. Perhaps, most choose not to admit it, fear that people will think them bad parents? Let me explain, and then you can make up your own mind. Pull up a chair. Let me pontificate.
Again, the advice about being more laid back with the second kid, is true. You don't wig out with every little cough, or bump, etc. You've been there before, know how fast it goes, are more mindful of the experiences. Don't confuse that with necessarily enjoying them. Anyone who tells you that they love the infant stage, complete with with three or four night time feedings, diaper changes, etc. is full of shit. That part is hard, the first, second, third, etc. time. The second time you just don't sweat it as much. You know it will come to pass, and have a frame of reference for what is next.
The thing that you aren't prepared for is the guilt you feel because you don't have the same amount of time, energy, etc. to give to the second kid as you did the first. You also have less time to give to the first now that the second is on the ground. Hell, if you want to get scary honest, some of the time you don't even have the desire. It doesn't mean that you don't love the #2 as much as #1 - you do. It just comes down to time. You have to divide it by two when the second kid comes along, and that is hard physically, emotionally, and mentally. Factor in the evil need to compare (not kids, the experience) and you have said guilt with a capital G,
Think I'm full of shit? I have an exercise for you. For parents with two kids, (those sans kids, contact your breeder friends so you can play along at home) gather up all the pictures you have for Kid #1 (#1 being a chronological distinction) from birth to 1 year. Do the same for Kid #2. I'd bet my beer money that you have a substantial stack in the Kid #1 pile. Kid #2 pile? Probably not so many.
I'm not trying to make anyone feel guilty, or more guilt. My heavy handed point is that it is one of those strange things that you never think of when you think of having kid(s). I never worried about it, and I worry about everything. The thing I worried about the most prior to the Little Warrior hitting the ground, turned out, to be a total non-issue.
My big fear was how could I love the new Baby as much as I loved Ethan. It was just unthinkable to me how I could have such an intense bond with another child. I think a big part of it, for me anyway, was that I was an only child. I had no frame of reference with siblings, etc. It was voodoo to me. Just couldn't get my head around it, until the Little Warrior graced us with his appearance on December 28, 2003.
I quickly discovered that I would love Wyatt as much as I love Ethan. All that worry (as usual) was a complete waste of time and energy. I love Ethan/Wyatt more than anything. Which, as I'm sure you realize is sort of contradictory. How can I love Wyatt more than anything if I love Ethan as much? This concept actually trips up the Elder Boy as he can't fathom that we (read: Parents) can love him as much as we do, and Wyatt too. He feels (or so all the instruction manuals say) there is only X amount of love to give and if you give it all on one, well there's none left for two. Funny (maybe sad, actually) that my previous worry was kind of grounded in the same thought process. If Ethan or anyone for that matter, asks how I can love them both more than anything, the only explanation I have is Elvis.
Elvis?
Yes, Elvis.
Dig this.
If you asked me to pick my favorite Elvis (much like the country did in 1992 when they had to vote which era Elvis would be on his stamp.) I couldn't.
I love the young Hillbilly Cat Elvis the same as I love the old White Jumpsuit Elvis. Elvis the Pelvis ripping through Mystery Train. Genius. Elvis a bit overweight, karate kicking his way through Kentucky Rain. Genius. I can't pick. I love the both equally - they are both so different, yet, the same. That Dear Reader, is how I feel about the Boy(s). I love them both to the nth degree - more than I could ever explain here, even with the help of the King.
Until I BLOG again...Man o man, What I want you to see, Is that the big E's, Inside of you and me!
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