can read them every book about a new sibling coming, but they are still surprised when the baby actually arrives.
You are so cute I just want to … punch … okay, I’ll kiss you
.
For our one-year-old, Michael, the arrival of his younger brother, Patrick, was the shock of a lifetime and wildly confusing. As sweet and kind as Michael is, he still couldn’t understand this small stranger who somehow just arrived and was stealing some of his thunder. He was gentle and kissed the baby’s head the way we’d taught him to do with a doll before the birth, but when he looked to us for approval, there was some desperation in his big blue eyes. It was like the reaction of an aging chorus girl when the eighteen-year-old ingenue joins the show. “Welcome aboard. I hope you don’t get injured.”
Michael wasn’t alone; all our children acted like they’d hada couple of Red Bulls after a breakup. Sleepless and clingy became their MO. Sibling jealously is always an issue, even if you have one kid dealing with the arrival of a new baby. I don’t think any husband or wife would be thrilled if their spouse suddenly brought home another partner. “Bob, this is Frank. Frank will also be my husband.” When you have four kids and a new kid shows up, the results are a little more dramatic. I guess only polygamist sister-wives could identify.
Jeannie and I attempt to make the transition as easy as possible on the kids. I try to be a compassionate dad. I always sit our other children down and explain that the new baby does not mean we love them any less, but we will have to let one of them go. I’m kidding, of course. There is nothing that can be said to a child to alleviate the stress of a new arrival. It can only be solved by one-on-one time and lots of cuddles. This is perfect, because you have all the free time in the world when dealing with a newborn. When newborns are not sleeping, they need constant attention. I think our youngest, Patrick, slept for a total of thirty-four seconds during his first three weeks.
What can we say to the other kids? “Okay, the bad news is we’ve hired someone to do your job, but the good news is you’ve been promoted to ‘Former Cutest Kid.’ Congratulations.” The kids are not thrilled. With a new baby, it always feels like Jeannie and I are going through parental performance reviews. The other kids don’t act out toward the baby, they act out toward us. It’s not the baby’s fault he’s here. It’s
our
fault. They don’t know
how
we did it, but they know that
we
did it. Suddenly, our three-year-old starts sucking her thumb with a vengeance, looking at us like, “Mom didn’t nurse me long enough. Now Iwill ruin my teeth so you will pay thousands of dollars in dental work.” The first couple of weeks of a new arrival when you have four kids are like pledging a fraternity, except the parents are the ones being hazed. To make matters worse, there is no alcohol served during this process.
What about the new kid, Patrick? How did he adjust? He wasn’t thrilled. Newborns don’t smile, and they always give me that look of “Oh no,
you’re
my dad?” Patrick went from having his own room in his “man cave” womb to being thrust into the center of a madhouse. He seemed to look around at our apartment, disgusted, as if to say “Wow. And I thought my
last
place was crowded.” I know how you feel, my friend. I know how you feel.
Please take him. Take him now!
Eat the Coleslaw!
Even when I was a little kid, I always saw motherhood as an awe-inspiring occupation. My mom was always mothering my siblings and me. It was a twenty-four-hour-a-day position. Running errands, making dinner, picking us up, and yelling instructions from the other room. “Eat the coleslaw!” would be bellowed from the kitchen as we ate dinner. How did she know we weren’t eating the coleslaw? Did moms have X-ray vision? We would giggle at crazy old Mom, but we knew that without her we were lost. All
You are so cute I just want to … punch … okay, I’ll kiss you
.
For our one-year-old, Michael, the arrival of his younger brother, Patrick, was the shock of a lifetime and wildly confusing. As sweet and kind as Michael is, he still couldn’t understand this small stranger who somehow just arrived and was stealing some of his thunder. He was gentle and kissed the baby’s head the way we’d taught him to do with a doll before the birth, but when he looked to us for approval, there was some desperation in his big blue eyes. It was like the reaction of an aging chorus girl when the eighteen-year-old ingenue joins the show. “Welcome aboard. I hope you don’t get injured.”
Michael wasn’t alone; all our children acted like they’d hada couple of Red Bulls after a breakup. Sleepless and clingy became their MO. Sibling jealously is always an issue, even if you have one kid dealing with the arrival of a new baby. I don’t think any husband or wife would be thrilled if their spouse suddenly brought home another partner. “Bob, this is Frank. Frank will also be my husband.” When you have four kids and a new kid shows up, the results are a little more dramatic. I guess only polygamist sister-wives could identify.
Jeannie and I attempt to make the transition as easy as possible on the kids. I try to be a compassionate dad. I always sit our other children down and explain that the new baby does not mean we love them any less, but we will have to let one of them go. I’m kidding, of course. There is nothing that can be said to a child to alleviate the stress of a new arrival. It can only be solved by one-on-one time and lots of cuddles. This is perfect, because you have all the free time in the world when dealing with a newborn. When newborns are not sleeping, they need constant attention. I think our youngest, Patrick, slept for a total of thirty-four seconds during his first three weeks.
What can we say to the other kids? “Okay, the bad news is we’ve hired someone to do your job, but the good news is you’ve been promoted to ‘Former Cutest Kid.’ Congratulations.” The kids are not thrilled. With a new baby, it always feels like Jeannie and I are going through parental performance reviews. The other kids don’t act out toward the baby, they act out toward us. It’s not the baby’s fault he’s here. It’s
our
fault. They don’t know
how
we did it, but they know that
we
did it. Suddenly, our three-year-old starts sucking her thumb with a vengeance, looking at us like, “Mom didn’t nurse me long enough. Now Iwill ruin my teeth so you will pay thousands of dollars in dental work.” The first couple of weeks of a new arrival when you have four kids are like pledging a fraternity, except the parents are the ones being hazed. To make matters worse, there is no alcohol served during this process.
What about the new kid, Patrick? How did he adjust? He wasn’t thrilled. Newborns don’t smile, and they always give me that look of “Oh no,
you’re
my dad?” Patrick went from having his own room in his “man cave” womb to being thrust into the center of a madhouse. He seemed to look around at our apartment, disgusted, as if to say “Wow. And I thought my
last
place was crowded.” I know how you feel, my friend. I know how you feel.
Please take him. Take him now!
Eat the Coleslaw!
Even when I was a little kid, I always saw motherhood as an awe-inspiring occupation. My mom was always mothering my siblings and me. It was a twenty-four-hour-a-day position. Running errands, making dinner, picking us up, and yelling instructions from the other room. “Eat the coleslaw!” would be bellowed from the kitchen as we ate dinner. How did she know we weren’t eating the coleslaw? Did moms have X-ray vision? We would giggle at crazy old Mom, but we knew that without her we were lost. All
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