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The monster, the little miss , and the minivan

Adjusting to life with two kids has been quite the adventure so far. I thought that the hardest part would be taking care of a new baby because all I remember of these first few months with Little was a constant cycle of feeding him, changing him, and the occasional cat nap if I was lucky. As it turns out, taking care of Gigi is way less of a challenge than Little is proving to be. Everything they try to warn you about when they tell you that your first child will regress when your second is born... it is way worse than that. We're back sliding in language (I can't count the times Little has started "Whaaaa-ing" at me instead of using words), behavior in general (if I have to scold him one more time my brain might just blow a gasket), and don't even get me started on how much we're regressing on the potty training front (Ew). I'm about ready to pull my hair right out. He's still a sweet little man, but oh my laws above! Who knew my three year old would be way more of a handful than my newborn?

Little has also started talking in run-on story sentences. And not just run-on sentences, sentences that go on so long that by the time he reaches the end not even he knows what he started out saying. He cracks me up. The other day he was having a hard time staying in bed so I went in there to scold him. When I asked him why he was having a hard time going to bed he responded something like this: "The pirates were yelling at me and told me not to stay in bed and they were mean to tell me not to stay in bed so I was not nice and they went in a pirate ship and were mean and said 'Yar! Avast ye!" and were mean... (continue in this vein for a bit)...so I don't want the pirates to talk to me anymore." I've decided from now on I'm blaming everything on the pirates. I didn't get the laundry folded because the pirates told me not to. I like it.
I also have to brag about him though because for all his craziness, he is maybe the
best older brother of all time. He has been protective of Gigi from day one. In fact, when we were bringing her home from the hospital I thought Little might like to see how they remove the little umbilical cord tag. All the nurses were attempting conversations and a few managed to get a word out of him, but for the most part he was shy and hiding from them. Until they crossed the line. The umbilical cord tag looks something akin to a chip clip, so I can see why it set him off, but man was he unhappy with the nurse. She removed it and all was well until she held it out toward us to see if we wanted to keep it and Little completely lost it. He started yelling at her to keep it away from baby Gigi and under no circumstances was he about to let that woman come near his baby and try to put that thing back on. The nurse raised her hands in defense, but Little wouldn't rest until it was safely in the trash. He still has a hard time not yelling at anyone who so much as looks like they might touch her, but we're working on that. She is definitely going to be well taken care of.
Gigi is doing great. She has already started consciously smiling, which I didn't know was possible this young, but apparently it is. I joked with Bryce the other night that she is my baby of mass destruction with the frequency and intensity of her diaper episodes--she had just gone through about six layers of her own clothing and blankets and two of mine--but other than that and the lack of sleep, she is a pretty easy baby so far (knock on wood). She is getting more chub in her cheeks and is getting more and more vocal about anything and everything. Gosh! We love this little girl.
We have also had another addition to our family recently. Meet Agnes. I am a little ashamed to admit it still. I never thought I'd give in and be a minivan type of gal, but Bryce was right yet again. One look at those fold into the floor seats and I was a goner. Strangely, thinking of owning a minivan makes me feel like I'm five years old again. Not only because it is harder to reach the gas pedal, but because I should not be old enough to need/want one. Crazy. Where did all the time go? How on earth am I old enough to have two kids? Crazy.


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