Did I Mention I Have A Second Daughter?

I just realized it’s been awhile since I wrote about Mira. Did you forget about her? She’s now four months old – can you believe it?

I’m a little behind on things right now. This past week has been busy, with cleaning up after Cordy’s birthday party (video still to come), Cordy starting at her new preschool, me starting nursing school, Aaron starting rehearsals for a new play, and also taking care of a family of cats in our spare time. It’s exhausting, and I’m barely awake as I write this now.

Mira has been around through all of this, quietly waiting for her turn to be noticed.

Notice me.

OK, maybe “quietly” isn’t exactly accurate. Miranda is a force to be reckoned with, just like her sister, yet often in entirely different ways. At four months, the screaming is slowly lessening (thank you, colic gods!), and she’s beginning to let her preferences be known. Some personality traits I recognize from Cordy, but at times they seem to be polar opposites.

I’m starting to understand that we will never be able to make both of our daughters happy at the same time. Cordy hates to leave the house, while Mira cries more if we’re home. Cordy gets upset in large groups of people, but Mira is happiest surrounded by a crowd. So if we’re home, Mira is upset, and if we’re out in public, Cordy is upset. Fun, eh?

Mira is a breast fiend. She wants her milk directly from the tap, and is usually offended by any offer of a bottle. Cordy hated breastfeeding, and had given it up entirely by this point, so this is all new for me. I’m glad breastfeeding has been so easy this time, and it’s certainly cheaper, although it guarantees that I can’t be away from her for long.

Breastmilk does a body good. And it gives you chubby thighs.

Like Cordy, she’s a serious baby, requiring a real song and dance from me to produce a smile. She’s discovered her feet recently, pulling them to her mouth as often as possible. Actually, anything near her ends up in her mouth – she’s practically begging for solid foods, but I’m holding off until her next check-up at least. Somehow I think she will love any food offered to her.

She’s charming, and while she still hates being put down, she’s not as high-needs as Cordy was at this point. Her naps are infrequent and short (must run in the family, and it’s enough to convince me I don’t want more kids), but she will sleep a 5-6 hour stretch in her crib at night before demanding to be brought into bed with me for the rest of the night.

I like mommy’s bed better. It’s got food on demand.

It’s hard to not constantly compare my two children – is this normal? Do other parents spend way too much time noticing how their kids are similar and different? Regardless of the comparisons, Mira has found her place in our family, and she is a sweet baby. I can’t wait to watch more of her personality develop to see how much she is like her sister, or Aaron and I, and also how much she is her own person.

Happy four months, Miranda. Now, do mommy a favor and let me get some homework done, m’kay?

What? I’ve got needs, too.


Haiku Fridays: A Moo-ving Haiku

Haiku Friday

Wilbur is a cow
He likes to read books to kids
Come find out more here


And one more haiku for this very special day:

Three years to the day
Cordy came into the world
Pissed off and screaming


…and little has changed. But that’s why I love her.

Join the haiku fun!



More Terrifying Than Any Horror Movie

Today started out like a normal morning. Cordy was walking up and down the stairs, pulling every known toy from her room to clutter up the downstairs. Mira was on my lap in the living room, Aaron was on the couch.

I heard Cordy at the top of the stairs, knowing she was getting ready to come back down again. And then I heard the thump. The first of many. And a squeaky screech after the first thump.

The stairs. She’s falling. Oh God, she’s falling.

Aaron and I locked eyes very briefly and we both jumped up. I quickly set Mira back down in the chair and turned to the stairs, just in time to see Cordy tumbling down the last five or six steps. Tumbling head over heels, then barrel rolling, limbs tangled in each other, her little body finally hit bottom with a dull thud. That single second it took us to get to her felt like an eternity, as she didn’t make any noise in that moment.

Aaron immediately swept her up in his arms, asking, “Cordy, are you OK?” Finally, after what seemed like forever, she cried. Cries of fear more than cries of pain. She continued to cry hard for a few minutes, then switched from daddy’s arms to mommy’s arms.

I continued to ask her if she was OK, and then she said, in such a tiny voice, “Rocket…” I looked up the staircase to see her Rocket toy (from Little Einsteins) about 2/3 of the way up. Aaron retrieved Rocket for her, and she hugged the hard plastic toy tight. A little more time passed, and she stopped crying. Clearly still stunned, but she showed no signs of injury. At that point she tried to push her luck, “Cake? Ice cream?” We laughed a little at that point, realizing she was OK.

I’ve never been so scared in my life. In that one brief moment, hearing her hit each step on the way down, seeing those last few tumbles, I worried I had lost my Cordy, less than a week before her third birthday. Holding her tight at the bottom of the stairs, I couldn’t help but cry. I was shaking uncontrollably. My hands moved all over her, checking for any bumps, running my hands through her mass of curls and wiping away her tears.

She’s fine. Even though she fell down 13 stairs, she doesn’t show any signs of the fall. I don’t know if she’s been paying attention to her daddy’s stage combat falls and rolls training, or if she just got lucky. I can’t begin to say how thankful I am that she wasn’t hurt. We had no reason to suspect that this would happen. Cordy has been going up and down those stairs for months. We’ve gone over stair safety over and over. Sometimes I can hear her chanting our manta as she walks down the stairs: “slow….careful…” She knows to hold the rail.

I don’t know what went wrong today. Maybe she forgot the rules for just a moment. But a moment is all it takes. It’s amazing how fragile life seems in those moments. I hope it never happens again, and we’ll be revisiting the topic of stair safety, too. Because I never want to feel that sickening, frightening, heart-in-my-throat feeling again.



Backup on the South Side of Town

On this crisp, bright Sunday morning, traffic is unusually heavy in one part of town. It’s bumper to bumper on the living room carpet.

I’d avoid this area if at all possible in your daily commute. Recommended alternatives are the kitchen linoleum or for the more adventurous, the stairs. Another alternative is the toy box, which is completely empty of traffic.


This traffic jam brought to you by Cordy.


Could A Recessive Swedish Gene Be Hiding In Her Somewhere?

Yesterday, while out at lunch with my mom:

My mom: Cordy, here are your silverware. (hands them to Cordy)

Cordy: (picking up her silverware, one by one) Look, a knife!

Me: Yes, that’s a knife. Good job!

Cordy: Look, a spoooooon!

My mom: You’re right, that’s a spoon.

Cordy: Look, a bork!

(Mom and I exchange confused looks)

Me: What is that, Cordy?

Cordy: A bork!

Me: (laughing) You mean a fork, Cordy. Ffff-ork.

Cordy: A bork! Bork, bork, bork!


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