As you all know, I have recently ventured into the world of the transitioning toddler, complete with potty training and the arrival of (although not used yet) "big girl bed."
All of this is preparation of baby sibling to arrive this fall.
V shows all the usual signs of growing up. She's getting gradually taller, and speaking more. Her hair is growing, and she's learning new things every day that are leaving her less and less like a baby, and more like an independent little human being.
Here's the problem, though.
I can not stop calling her my baby. Or the baby. Or sweet baby girl. I find myself answering, "Yes, baby?" when she asks for my attention. Or telling coworkers "I've got to go pick up the baby." Or telling my mom, "Well I have the baby with me."
Every mom has fears that she won't love her second child as much as her first, and any mom who tells you differently is lying. But, every mom who already has more than one also will tell you that the fears are generally unfounded, and your heart just grows bigger instead of having to squeeze in another one into the same size.
Violet has had two full years of my undivided attention, and for now, I suppose I was ok with that continuing on until it had absolutely had to stop. But my unabashed attachment has started to become more of a detriment than a positive thing as of late.
We have entered a phase of full on regression with potty training. She doesn't tell me when she needs to go, and she hasn't had a victory in weeks. It's like she all of a sudden decided that she was still totally cool with being diaper dependent, despite her excitement just weeks before over becoming "mommy's big girl!"
When I ask her, "Are you a big girl or a baby?" She doesn't even hesitate. "Baby, mama." The other day she actually wanted her dad to spoon feed her. SPOON FEED HER. We haven't spoon fed that girl in over a year, but she relished in the game, and Chris happily obliged.
So the other night, after we put her to bed, I told Chris, "We have to stop calling her 'baby'."
The fact is she's not a baby anymore. And nothing, including the arrival of an actual baby come fall, is going to stop or change that. This is so much harder than it sounds. I still remember very clearly the first moment I held her in my arms. Or the first sweet days of nursing around the clock, and hearing that cooing sound they make. I remember the first time she could grip her own pacifier, and being so excited about this little milestone.
And as much as I wish time would slow down for a little while when it comes to her, it only seems to speed up. I have no choice but to acknowledge that in 5 short months, another tiny little human being is going to need more of me than she will. And we're doing her a disservice by not preparing her for that.
Sure, she'll always be the one who made me a mom. I'll always hold a very special place in my heart just for her, and we will always have our things that we do, just the two of us. But I think maybe it's time to start sharing a little bit of the blame, and making a change in myself to let her grow, and guide her as much as I can.
Even if it's a huge pain. Or frustrating. Or takes a while. Or I really, really don't want to do it.
Here's to the transition year. Wish me luck!
Love,
Dominique
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