Elizabeth - The Reckoning

So, she's here. The one who tortured me in utero, my second and last child, my daughter, karma's little gift to my mother. I chose the title of this post because whenever my husband and I were getting a second of something (second dog, second lizard, etc) he always inserted "the reckoning" in as part of their name. But so far, she's not "the reckoning"... she is the-one-who-makes-me-feel-capable.

Yes folks, the second child is easier. Much easier. Or perhaps I'm just less insane. I'm not jumping up at every noise. Nor am I jumping up in the absence of noise - poking her to make sure she's breathing. I'm not consulting a million websites and books daily to make sure I'm doing everything right. I'm not sitting around with an insane and inexplicable resentment toward my husband. I'm not crying inconsolably, exhausted on only 3 hours of sleep. I'm sleeping (granted in broken up chunks) 5 1/2 - 7 hours per night. I'm feeling like a unified team with my husband whom I love and am thankful for. I've consulted my books/websites a couple times, but mostly it's all coming back like riding a bike.

This is so weird. I'm telling you. Mike and I were sitting there on our couch the other night giggling in shock. Both our kids were sleeping and we were marvelling at the fact the fact that we're not the walking dead. Are we tired? Yes. Have there been some challenging moments? Of course. But all in all... we're coping. More than that, we're doing well!

So what will I post about? What crazy stories can I share? No worries, kids. God, in his infinite wisdom, makes sure that life hands us moments to remember and laugh at later, if we still have the energy.

Our most recent... the-amazing-spitting-Elizabeth (see my other post at williamplavinsmom.blogspot.com for our other most recent fiasco, uh event). Elizabeth has been mostly easy. After some initial nursing trouble, she eats and sleeps well. Here's the problem... sometimes that first one (the eating) goes a little too well, or shall I say too long. Now, don't get me wrong. William could spit up and spit up well. He NEVER, however, spit up so much that he soaked me to my underwear. No, I'm afraid that prize goes to his sister.

You see, she does what I call "marathon" eating sessions from time to time where she just can't seem to stop eating for about 3-4 hours straight. Well during a very recent marathon session I was attempting to burp her (and by attempting I mean I had JUST started to move her toward my shoulder) when she did the most amazing Exorcist-Pea-Soup impression I have ever seen. The amount of milk that shot from her (mouth AND nose kids, mouth and nose) seemed to be of a volume impossibly large for one so small. I think she spat up everything she ate - SINCE BIRTH. I got up to change and realized that besides soaking our couch (praise God for stain resistant micro fiber) she had not just soaked my shirt and pants. She'd soaked me to my underwear! I had to shower and change EVERYTHING. Then, as I go back out to find her (Daddy had since cleaned her up), I find an incredibly pleased-with-herself baby who is wanting to EAT AGAIN!! Are you kidding me? I think she just figured she'd emptied herself out and now it was time to fill up with some fresh stuff.

Here's the kicker too... she's now performed this same feat on my mother-in-law and brother-in-law.

Gotta love this little girl already. At least she spreads the wealth!