One week later

It occurs to me that I should report how everyone is doing. First, Mr. Jacob. He is basically an angel. He sleeps all the time, but is spending an increasingly greater proportion of his days awake and aware. Because I am due a child who sleeps at night, he clusters all his awake-time during the day and wakes only momentarily to eat at night. Like his brother before him, Jacob is exclusively nursing and is a champion eater. His one-week appointment was today and he has already gained back all his birth weight. He fusses only when hungry or being undressed, and if you catch him early enough in the fuss-process you can keep him in what Dada and I have termed his "grumpy old man" persona, where he doesn't cry but instead harrumps "Meh. Meh!"

Isaac is handling this all better than I expected. He has not yet tried to whomp up on his little bro, but he clearly has some toddler angst. My big guy, for whom mellowness is a trademark, has thrown all kinds of tantrums this week. When he is upset, he bawls "boo-boo-boo" over and over again in the most pitiful way. We spent so long trying to figure out what this translates to from toddlerese; we learned yesterday that he got this from the "Little Red Caboose" book. There's a passage where the protagonist of said story feels particularly sad and sorry for himself, and when I read this I say "Boo-hoo-hoo" in the voice of the caboose. When voiced by Isaac, this becomes "boo-boo-boo". I almost cried upon realizing that he was trying to express sadness, but you have to be a little impressed that he voices his feelings in this rather tragic way. But I won't fool you into thinking this is his new 'tude all the time. He swings back and forth between trying to yank me off my duff when I'm nursing Jacob and calling Jacob "my baby," showing him toys and stuffed animals (and even sharing trains!) and helping me put him in his car seat. I think he'll be just fine, given a little more time to get used to the idea of sharing that holiest of holy possessions, his mom.

I am doing exceedingly well physically. People keep telling me "You look amazing!" These lame-os clearly are not looking at my still-substantial beer gut, and must instead be focusing on my new, gigantic rack. At first nursing Jacob was not so easy. Like his brother before him, he has a "powerful suck". At the hospital he was such an eager beaver that he cracked a nipple open and wouldn't nurse from it for awhile because I'd start dousing him with blood whenever he'd try to get a drink. With the help of Grandma, who ran to the store and got me boobie maxi-pads (to keep my boobs from sticking to my bra and peeling off a layer of skin each time Jacob had to nurse) and gelled vitamin E pills (to break open and rub on the anguished areas -- SO MUCH BETTER THAN LANSINOH), Jacob and I totally have it down now and are great nursing pals. It took Isaac and I about 6 weeks to figure out the nursing thing. Everyone told me that bouncing back from birthing my second would be easier, and they were correct in every way.

I am also really enjoying this new feeling of competency handling a baby. When Isaac was born I hadn't so much as ever changed a diaper and I spent my entire 3-month maternity leave convinced that I would find some way to accidentally kill him. Now that I have a near-23-month-old who is still kicking and threatening to bust out of his size-4 dipes, I feel like I actually might know something about taking care of little boys. Speaking of Isaac and his largeness, one thing that I didn't expect upon bringing Jacob home was seeing just how stinkin' big Isaac is in comparison. I still have trouble realizing that I need to recalibrate my arms between picking up one son and the other, since there is a 20-pound difference there. Will Jacob ever be that big? No way! Oh, wait. Didn't I say that about Isaac?

Oh, and you thought it went fast when there was just one of them. Here it is, a week (and small change) later and I am already without Grandma Ross, who flew home Sunday. Grandpa Ross got here in the wee hours of Saturday morning and is driving back tomorrow. Thus tomorrow is that fated day, the one where I get left alone for more than 45 minutes at a time (my current record) with my two boys. Um. Um. HELP!We'll see if I can keep it all together when I don't have grandmas and grandpas to help me go to the bathroom...