Having a second child is hard.
I know those of you with more than two children are shaking your heads, thinking about just how much harder it can get.
But for me, two has been hard.
It's getting easier, nearly four months in. I'm starting to be able to do some of the things I had set aside. You know, like cleaning bathrooms. Or cleaning... anything. I'm starting to get Kieran on some sort of routine, and I'm figuring out how to multitask enough to keep everyone fed, changed, dressed, and reasonably happy. Sleep deprivation is still a part of my life, but not in the mind-numbing way it once was. I'm starting to blog again. Slowly but surely, I am getting my life back.
But it's a different life.
A life of double strollers and not enough hands and nursing while walking.
I nursed Kieran in the powder room this afternoon, sitting on a little plastic stool, steadying Lyndon as he sat on his potty seat.
I know I'll be overjoyed when my little boys start playing together, when they whisper to each other from their beds at night, but right now, I'm just overwhelmed. I have an infant. And a toddler. I am a mother of two. And it's the hardest thing I've ever done.