Easier than a deserted island, and other praise of motherhood

I've been told that E is one of those easy babies who lulls his parents into thinking that another baby will be a piece of cake.

Seriously? This is easy?

I get it. He's easier than some other babies. He sleeps remarkably well with very few wakeups these days. Meanwhile, I still hear mothers in E's room talking about how their kids are sometimes up 3 times per night. Clearly I am spoiled. E woke up 3 times for exactly 1 night, way early on, and B and I both thought we had traveled to hell and back by the time morning rolled around.

I know. If you have one of those difficult babies, you want to shoot me for having such an easy baby. But it hasn't felt easy to me!

E has been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, and the challenge is never-ending. He's around every day! My way of thinking has been forever changed. E's well-being is now my top priority, no matter where I am or what I'm doing.

Sure, I get breaks. Believe it or not, I think of work as a break. On some weekends, I look longingly toward Tuesday, the start of my workweek. The end of a Friday no longer represents the freedom it used to.

So, yes, I suppose in comparison to some babies or say, 14.5 months of being stranded on a deserted island with no toothbrush, E is easier. And under his reign, we've achieved a sort of normalcy.

It's a new normal, of course. In this new normal, I go to bed at 9:00 or 9:30 every night and wake up around 6 or 6:30 every day. I'm home nearly every night from 4 PM onward. I rarely eat in restaurants. My avec-Eli outings are never more than an hour in duration. I dread any occasion that requires Eli to miss a nap. And I spend a lot of time at home. A lot.

This new normal is predictable, and believe it or not, after the chaos of spitup, snot, vomit, and wakeups that were hallmarks of E's first year, predictability is welcome. We've figured out a nice little routine, and in it, E is thriving, I've found more of the balance I've been craving, and B is able to participate more in our weekday activities.

E is now between 14 and 15 months old, and I understand why so many children are spaced 2 years apart. I think most people make it this far and while they feel like they've been through some sort of foggy, sleep-deprived, vomit-covered war, they decide that now that peace has descended, they can do it again.

I am not most people. E has not lulled me into thinking that another baby would be a breeze or even for that matter doable. If I have to go through those feelings of imprisonment again, I think I will become unhinged. (And I'm only partially joking.)

The ladies at E's school keep telling me that they're waiting for E's younger sibling to come to school. I keep telling them that they should probably not get their hopes up...