Second time's the charm. {And some word vomit. {Ew.}}

When it comes to Kristina having babies, anyway.

I've been reading a very introspective friend's blog, and it's got me in the mood to just start writing about me, and see what comes out, instead of my news-y postings of late.

It's been SUCH A RELIEF to find that having a baby didn't cause the same difficulties for me that it did the first time around. What I had after Jamie wasn't just baby blues; it still disturbs me to remember the thoughts I had, and how utterly scared and depressed I felt at times. I've had some difficult moments/hours/days since Luke was born, but they're nothing in comparison. When I had a follow-up OB appointment, she asked if I'd experienced any depression. I thought for a minute, then said, "Nothing I haven't been able to reason through."  Even when I felt really depressed, I could tell myself that it would pass, and hang in there until it did.

So nice.

Understatement.

It's funny to me that I worried about "the baby" (back when Luke was a stranger, before he was born) being a little interloper, and resenting him for competing with Jamie. If anything, I've struggled with my feelings of frustration for Jamie--when you compare a sweet, adorable, smiley (most of the time) little baby with an extremely opinionated 3-year-old who loves to argue, it's hard not to play favorites sometimes. I mean, one tells you "NO!" and does things you specifically told him not to, the other snuggles with you and melts your heart just by looking at you a million times a day. Not much of a contest, when you don't keep things in the proper perspective.

But I've been working on it. I've had some REALLY BAD days with Jamie, and I've been working on the art of choosing not to get angry. (Rather, I'm begging Heavenly Father to help me work on it, and He is so kindly complying.) When I'm good at this, I have some GREAT days with him. And it's amazing how he responds--when I don't get mad, he behaves a lot better, and we have much more harmony, enjoyment, and love between us. He's such a sweet, tender little guy. He loves us so much, and he's a WONDERFUL big brother. It has warmed my heart to see how much he loves Luke. He almost never gets upset with him, wants to see him all the time, tries to comfort him when he's sad, and gives him lots of kisses. Again, so heartwarming.

I think that anger is like any sin--once you start, it's so much easier to do it again. If I let myself be sharp or sarcastic, I have to work very consciously to stop it in its tracks before my next interaction, or the day will usually spiral downward.

If anything, having another baby, and then looking at my first, who will be starting preschool in September, has given me first-hand evidence that they grow up FAST and I've got to try to appreciate every moment I can.

Earlier tonight, I was sitting at the table eating my dinner (Jamie and Jason had already eaten; I'd been upstairs getting Luke to sleep), and reading a book I've read a bunch of times before. Jamie was watching Blue's Clues alone. I was vaguely grateful he was sitting still and being quiet, when I realized it was pretty stupid to read a book I'd already read when my little boy would enjoy my company, and I could enjoy his. So I put the book down, went over and sat with him, and we watched Blue's Clues together. He enjoyed telling me what was happening. I put my arm around him, and he hugged it, and when I took it off him, he reached up and pulled it back.

When I take the time to really seek to do what's best for Jamie, and let my pride go (wanting to be right, just wanting him to obey me because I said so), it works so much better.

Also, the last couple of days, when Luke has required falling asleep on top of me in the afternoon, I've been letting him stay there instead of putting him down and working on the never-ending to-do list. I just read my silly Mormon romance novel, enjoy his breathing, and kiss his soft, chubby cheeks every five minutes or so, ignoring the laundry and whatnot. And I don't regret it ONE BIT.

Gosh, that feels good. Do you ever detect growth in yourself, and you feel so happy to know that maybe you really can become a deeper, happier, wiser person with time?

Speaking of [clean] romance novels, I've discovered they can be a shot in the arm for marriage. It's fun to read about someone falling in love, and remember your own story (especially when you realize it turned out to be somewhat like the plot of your favorite romance novel as a teenager), and feel sappy toward your husband all over again as a result. Love that! Love, love, love being sappy with my husband.

I feel like I've still kind of stayed of the surface, though I wanted this post to just be a spitting-out of whatever feelings I've been experiencing lately. Oh well. Is what it is. But I have to say that since Luke was born, I've been much more open and uninhibited in certain areas of my life, and I really think natural childbirth had something to do with that, to be honest. Remember how I said I was shocked at myself for literally screaming during the birth? Jason has seen me practically every way--in sickness and in health and each degree in between--but that was new for both of us. Maybe it was a whole new level of closeness for us. I mean, really, I was a perfect lady during Jamie's birth (if you don't count having my legs wide open, and in front of strangers, no less!), because there was no pain.

So this is life right now. Babies, balancing. Balancing babies with the rest of life. It's so funny to me that sometimes I mutter to myself that I wish I could hire someone to take care of my babies so I could have time to get all the other stuff done--but a lot of the other stuff, like crafting and sewing, I want to do FOR the babies (making Jamie a blanket right now, for instance), and wouldn't it be ridiculous and sad if I neglected giving my babies my time and love and attention--giving them ME in other words--so that I could make STUFF for them?

"Children spell 'LOVE' tee-eye-em-ee."

Maybe it should be "T-I-M-E."

The first one sounds better, phonetically, but the second looks better.

Anyway. That's my sometimes-mantra. Or it should be.

Well, I should get to bed, as I have to be at the temple at 6:30 a.m. (a time I have usually only witnessed in the last few months through small, blurry slits in my eyes while giving Luke a bottle) tomorrow to work in the laundry. I would have signed up for the 9:30 slot. I DID, actually. Long story. Oh well, I'll get to sew. Even sewing labels into clothing is still sewing. And blessings from service and all that. Yay. :)

One last thought. I read The Work and the Glory series, historical fiction about the history of the LDS church, and the author's depiction of the Haun's Mill massacre has stayed with me. Basically, a militia attacked a peaceful LDS settlement in 1838, because they were Mormons. Women and children were killed mercilessly. In the book, a main character experiences it, and loses her husband. She also gets shot through her hand. The author got this from records of the tragedy, where it was recorded that this happened to an unnamed woman, if I remember right.

This is dark stuff, I know. The thing is, ever since I read that, I can't help but think twice when I want to say I've had a crappy day. Well, a voice inside my head says, maybe not so much. Maybe a day where my family and I are all safe and fed and comfortable isn't such a bad day. A day when your husband is killed by a mob--that's a really bad day.

A day with this face in it, or his big brother's--or both--is never all bad!

It's all about perspective.