Baby #2

Okay, everybody just relax (especially you, Mom and Sami). I'm talking about second babies in GENERAL, not MY second baby. To my knowledge, I'm not pregnant, though God does seem to have a sense of humor where I'm concerned, so I'm not ruling anything out.

It's been a long time since I've posted. So long, in fact, that I actually forgot my password. Alas, I've been busy doing things that most people might actually call "productive", so the blog has taken a back seat. My garage looks great, though.

Anyway.

I'm not sure what it is about a woman struggling to keep up with a toddler that makes everyone on the planet speculate about when the next round of progeny will be making his or her debut. But for some reason, everyone, from the nurse in my doctor's office to the woman behind me in the checkout line at the grocery store, wants to know when the next Little Goodman will be here. I guess something about a frazzled-looking woman trying to keep a kid from running into traffic or constantly repeating "No, no, Sweetie! Please don't touch that!" like a hook from a Britney Spears song just screams, "Hey, you know what she needs? More of those."

Regardless, that's pretty much how it goes. Apparently once you have one, you're contractually obligated to have another.

I'm just going to go ahead and say it:  I'm not entirely sure I want more. That's kind of a taboo thing to say, because it makes people assume that 1) you must not really like your first kid, otherwise you'd be dying to make more and/or 2) you are selfish for intentionally depriving your child of the joy of siblings.

It would be easiest for me to say that I'm hesitant to have more because of what I went through to get #1 here. After having a horrible pregnancy, almost dying twice in childbirth, and then having PPD, I think I've earned the right to have just one. And while the thought of going through all that AGAIN gives me nightmares, (no really, it does give me nightmares), my main concern is this: babies scare the living hell out of me.

It's no shock to anyone who has read this blog that I'm kind of ambivalent toward babies. Yeah, they're really cute and snuggly. (Although "cute" is kind of relative, because if we're all really honest with ourselves, newborns look a lot like blind mole rats.) But they're just so incredibly needy and helpless.

I've gotten to a point where I LOVE being a Mom. I've loved my son ferociously since the moment he was born, but I didn't really have fun with him for a while. It takes a special kind of person to really enjoy a baby, and I guess I'm just not one of them. But now that Jackson is a toddler, I'm having an absolute blast with him. He's like a little miniature HUMAN now.

The way I see it, babies are almost like a different species. They eat different food, they're nocturnal (or at least they seem to be when you're on your 4th feeding of the night), and they can't do anything we really associate with being human (walking upright, talking, watching 30 Rock, etc.) They breathe through lungs, but that's where the similarities end.

Oh, and they're incredibly aloof. They don't care that you're "Mommy" and that you love them with every fiber of your being and would lay down your life for them without a single thought. No, that really doesn't register. You could be Mommy or the Queen of England and they wouldn't care, so long as you're warm and willing to shove food in their mouths.

But then, gradually, they start doing things that we do. They begin eating solid foods. They laugh. (Granted their little senses of humor are a bit primitive, but that's okay.) They start using their opposable thumbs. And best of all, they love you.

I have to say, having a toddler is the greatest thing in the entire world. He's a bit more difficult to take in public, but that's a small price to pay. He plays with blocks and cars. He plays catch with me (okay, so his aim is a bit off most of the time...) He runs around the house terrorizing the animals. And no matter what he's doing, he has to take a break every 15 minutes to run over to me for a hug.

In short, I'm so happy right now that I'm not sure I want to start all over again.

I'm assuming at some point I'll be bitten by what some people refer to as "The Baby Bug", which is essentially nature's way of making sure that even cynics like me pass on our DNA to more than one offspring. I guess our species needs pessimists, too.

But until that time, I'm going to enjoy the little miniature person my son has become.