Just some thoughts...

My boys are so perfect. Not perfect in behavior, or appearance or attitude. Perfect in their own perfect way.

I used to wonder how I could love my second child as much as Mason. I knew it would happen but it's a hard thing to understand. Then Grant came and I not only love Mason just as much, I appreciate and adore him even more. I see him differently.

His eyelashes are so dark and thick. When he laughs, I want to cry it's so cute. Sometimes just the way he says things breaks my heart because it is so precious. The other day he said "blue balloon" and it was just so cute. "Buhlue Ballllooon" And then the things he says. Sometimes he just seems so grown up. I was nursing Grant a few days ago and he comes in, sits down on the floor silently for a few minutes and finally says, "soooo, how are you doing?" in this polite, conversationalist voice.

He got a book for being a big brother from my assistant principal. It's like a nature guide book on reptiles and amphibians. He loves that thing. We found two lizards outside when we were taking out the trash and tried to catch them. We failed(thankfully).When we came back inside he promptly went to his guidebook to identify the lizards.

He is an amazing butterfly catcher. He catches them with his hands. There have been several times when I hear him banging on the front door only to find him with a butterfly in each hand and a huge grin on his face.

Sometimes I am so impatient with him. I am trying so hard. But it is hard. He just wants me so much and I can't be there all the time because of Grant. I have found myself saying things that are rude to him. It's so easy to be snappy with him, and impossible to take back those snappy remarks. Not only does he get hurt by my words, he learns from them. It's an overwhelming task, being a mom.

He was trying unsuccessfully for about three minutes to put on a shirt while Troy and I were talking in his room. Finally, with one arm protruding through the arm hole, and only half his head poking through the top, he says in a sarcastic tone, "Okay, Seriously!"

Grant. Grant is heaven. Do all moms stare at their babies? Just stare at them and wonder how God could make something so perfect. Even when he cries, he is cute(up to a point). I have this instrumental CD of Christmas music and I have been playing it when I nurse him before bed time. It's beautiful music. As I sit there nursing him, I just...just...am overwhelmed with everything. Gratitude. Love. Adoration. Fear. Hope. Every once in a while he will catch my eye and actually stay focused on it. It's like he is looking right into my soul.

Motherhood, the 2nd time around, has been so much easier for me. With Mason, I doubted everything I did. I had no confidence in myself as a mother. None.

This was a completely new feeling for me because, up until that point, things that were supposed to be difficult like marriage and college and living away from home, were easy for me. I just assumed that motherhood, something I had spent my whole life dreaming about, would be natural, maybe not easy, but natural. I was so wrong.

I cried so much with Mason. I felt like a horrible mother because he wouldn't sleep or ate too much or not enough. If he was fussy, it was my fault. If he was clingy, it was my fault. I struggled so much during his first year of life.

I realize now that I was young and that had to be a part of it, but I also had very few friends with babies. And those that had babies had perfect babies. I remember one day having a conversation with a girl in one of my college classes. She had a baby girl a few months older than Mason who was a "difficult" baby. When she told me her baby didn't sleep through the night or that she cried so much people in her church recognized her cry or that she had to be rocked to sleep every night, I can't tell you the relief I felt. It was just so reassuring to know that I wasn't alone in this. Mason wasn't the only "hard" baby in the world and therefore I couldn't be the worst mother out there.

With Grant, things have been so different. I really don't think he is that much different than Mason was. Maybe a little easier, but not totally. The difference is me. When he cries, I don't panic. I finish folding the laundry and then get him. I don't feel like his crying is a bad thing. It's just what babies do. His crying is not a indicator of my abilities as a mother.

He is still far from sleeping through the night. While I desperately want him to do this for my sake, I don't feel like a failure because he's not. I feel like we're normal. I couldn't even really tell you how long he nurses on each side or how often he nurses because I don't care. I nurse him when nothing else seems to make him happy or when he's trying to suck on anything that touches his cheek. I am starting to try to find a routine but that's only for the sake of his future caregiver while I am at work.

Work. This isn't the post for this. I am not thinking about it.

I think another reason I have felt so much better about things this time around is because of this. This blog community. I have heard your weaknesses. I know your children don't always sleep or obey or look perfect. I know you get frustrated. Mommy friends are important. Otherwise you sit in your dirty house with your crying kids and wonder, "Is this what it is supposed to be like or am I just bad at this?"

I can always be a better mother. But I am doing okay. Good. Even great sometimes. And look at those two boys? I am doing okay.