Mixed Feelings, I Think?

So we've been to the doctor, everything is confirmed and we are officially pregnant, due October 10.  It's strange to go through this a second time.  I'm already comparing this pregnancy with my last; this poor kid doesn't have a chance.
The first time, especially with an unplanned pregnancy, if full of so many emotions.  I was SO excited, surprised, overwhelmed, excited, full of anticipation, trepidation....so many things.  I was excited about having a baby, but I was so excited to go though a pregnancy.  I read everything I could get my hands on.  I wanted to know what to expect, what was normal, what would happen next...I felt fairly prepared for the very uneventful and pleasant pregnancy I had.  This time, although I'm sure it will continue to be at least a little different, I already know what to expect.  I know I will take advantage of every spare minute to sleep until just after my second trimester begins.  I know how to eat.  I know what will happen at our doctor appointments.  I know when we will find out the sex.  It's all still exciting to go through, of course, but there's not the anticipation of unknown territory.  I'm even having a scheduled c-section, for crying out loud.  Which is great for planning, but feels a very business-like way to bring a child into the world.
Then there's the whole situation of not having many spare seconds to sleep due to having been pregnant before, leading me to already have a child.  While I was a FT working person during my first pregnancy, now I am a stay at home mom who also babysits another baby.  I will have the whole balancing Max with an infant part down, but boy, it was nice to be self-centered during my pregnancy. I was not a person who wanted to be waited on, and like I said, I worked FT and still cooked dinners, did laundry, cleaned the house, etc.  But I also went to bed at 9 if I wanted.  Right now, I am opting to type this knowing my laundry will not get done today because I will now go make dinner, play with Max, eat, give him a bath put him to bed and then go to bed.  It's really hard to be annoyed that I want to give Max my time.  But I am.  I want him to snuggle (aka nap) on the couch with me so I can catch a few zzzzs.  But he's almost 3.  He doesn't stay still very long.  He also watches way more tv than I want him to, but sometimes mama needs a break.  Or to pee or make dinner or feed the baby.
I'm glad Max likes having the little baby here every day.  I hope he is as excited about the one who doesn't go home at 4:00.  His jealousy is very mild if it does rear its head.  And he's actually very helpful.  But this doesn't stop me from freaking out about the fact that we've now made this a permanent situation.  I feel like my house will never be clean again, my laundry will never be done again, I will never not feel tired again.  That's the selfish stuff.  Then there's the fact that I adore Max.  I mean, this kid is the bomb.  He's smart as can be, charming, easy on the eyes, polite (and nothing gets me like a kid with manners), so imaginative, kind... I love spending time with him!  I know I just had a rant of how I miss being able to sleep pre-Max, but even still, if anything is going to keep me awake, I'd rather it be him.  And now there's going to be someone else who will cause me to miss out on Max time.  I don't know this new person yet, so I don't know if I'll enjoy his company as much as Max.  I mean, I'll love him, obviously, but I can't imagine anyone coming close to the coolness of the kid I already have.
Which leads me to my next irrational thought.  How on earth will we be lucky enough to have 2 kickass kids?  I mean, we got so lucky with Max.  Great sleeper, great eater, nice kid, all the aforementioned qualities...I just am so afraid that the new baby will be colicky, bad eater, bad sleeper, so needy.....and I might lose my mind.  I seriously have over 7 months to deal with this before meeting unknown child.  And I'm already stressing.  Which is probably in turn affecting baby's development.  Which will make this a self-fulfilling prophecy.  Great.  Yet I am super excited to meet newest tiny human.
I am super hopeful that the sudden surge of hormones is making me into this slightly more miserable and slightly more neurotic version of me and that it will level out in a few weeks.  I want to be a happy pregnant mama.  And just a happy regular mama.  And I absolutely do not want to drag either of my children down my spiral of insanity.  And secondarily, my husband shouldn't really hang out there either.
Maybe I just need a nap.  Soon..

So this happened!

So a few months back, Dave and I (mostly I; Dave had decided about 2 years ago!) decided we were ready for another baby.  I was so scared to admit that; I'm not sure why.  I LOVE being Max's mommy and perhaps that is in fact why.  I can't imagine being a mom to anyone else, having this much love for anyone else.  I truly wasn't ready until then.  I knew I I wanted more, but I was just loving the heck out of Max and I figured if I was meant to have another sooner, it would happen.  Even if I was on the pill. Just like with Max.  I hadn't happened, so we decided we would actively try.  I didn't tell anyone this information because 1.) I was already dealing with the "So when are you having another?" and I didn't want the additional pressure, and 2.) Telling people we were trying was not really anyone's business and them knowing would mean they might take the leap and think about us having sex.  I know it's crazy.  But I have never been really forthright about the "intimate" details of my life; it's my cross to bear.
I also didn't think I would have to let people know since I was convinced we were such fertile fellows.  I mean, we got pregnant on the pill when Dave was in for a weekend from his 8 week job in Missouri.  I mean, the stars really had to be aligned for Max to be with us here today, yet here he is.  So when we actually intended on getting pregnant, it should be a piece of cake, no?
No.
I don't mean to diminish the anguish of couples who go through months and years of infertility.  I can't imagine being in that situation.  But I just know I thought we would be able to conceive in 1 month, maybe 2 and when we didn't, I was devastated.  I spent lots of money on pregnancy tests, convinced that was the problem.  The ones I bought were too cheap, too old, not digital, etc.  So I took 2-3 tests every month.  Again, I recognize I am a crazy person.
Then in December, I felt it.  I knew we did it.  I timed it out on the calendar, I had sore boobs, I was exhausted, I even convinced myself I was peeing more frequently.  And most importantly I was late.  So I waited until I was officially 2 days late so as not to get disappointed again.  I peed in a cup, dipped the stick and waited.  Since we were in the post Christmas debt, I had gotten a box of non-digital store brand.  I was having a moment of rationalism after extensive research that says they are essentially all the same so why waste the money.  I brushed my teeth and put in my contacts waiting for that line to come up in the second window.  I knew I was looking for a vertical line, give me a vertical line.  Holy shit, it was a vertical line!!  We had done it.  3 "short" months and we were going to have a baby.  Baby would be exactly 3-1/2 years younger than Max.  That exact half year was appealing to me for some reason.  Would they share a room?  Would I lose the guest room?  Would it be a boy or a girl?  Chinese gender charts said it would be a girl.  I was really happy about that.  All these thoughts ran through my head before I even walked into the bedroom to tell Dave.  I walked into our room and woke him gently.  We chatted a bit and he said, "What's on the docket for today?"  I said, "Maybe we should talk baby names?" :)  He was so excited and so was I; non stop grinning.  We decided to wait to tell anyone, except maybe Max.  Maybe.  We lay in bed just basking in the glow of our news.  Max woke up and joined us; it was a freakin' ABCFamily episode.  I got up to go to the bathroom again and - what I'm about to admit is possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life - and decided to look at the test again before I threw it out.  I looked again and it was odd.  I just felt like I should look at the pamphlet.  And I felt nausea that I knew was not morning sickness.  I'd read the test wrong.  I looked at the control window, which did in fact have that vertical line.  Duh, it's the control window.  The other window held a giant horizontal line.  Like a big old minus.  Negative.  A flashing sign of "You are too dumb and fat to get pregnant."  And then I had to tell Dave.
I walked into the room in complete shock and devastated I had to burst the cloud 9 he was riding.  All because I was so convinced I was pregnant/wanted to be pregnant so badly, I saw what I wanted to see on that stick.  And I burst into incoherent sobs.  I think I wailed that I made a mistake and shoved the test and pamphlet under his nose, and God love him, he tried to turn that test and pamphlet every which way to make it say what we wanted it to say.  And he consoled me even though he was clearly disappointed too.  And Max gave me a hug, not having any idea what was happening.
I was so annoyed at myself, I obsessively Googled "misreading pregnancy tests" to try to read some other poor soul's similar story.  I found none.  I felt like such an idiot.  Who misreads a pregnancy test?? That's joke on some bad sitcom.  And now it was a bad joke in my life.  I was so sad.  I felt like I lost a child I never had.  I'd only thought I had one for an hour!  But the feeling of loss was real.  And you can't deal with loss alone.  So I ended up spilling the beans to one of my sisters.  The one I was doing a show with at the time.  I pulled her into the bathroom, reluctant since she was a very vocal member of Team More Babies.  But I broke down and told her, feeling like a silent weight was lifted finally just by speaking it out loud.  She didn't quite realize where the story was going at first and probably thought I was telling her I was pregnant, so she let out an expression of joy, followed by sympathy.  She was kind and encouraging, which was especially nice since she was also obviously uncomfortable.
I think just getting it out helped.  It was a lot to carry inside, and it was like a miracle.  I immediately felt a weight lifted.  I wasn't less sad, but I didn't feel burdened and I was able to focus on other things in my life, which was helpful since I was in the midst of directing a show.
Flash forward to early February.  Time to test again.  I felt really confident about it this month.  I was more relaxed and aware of the timing of things, so I thought if it's going to happen, this is it.  Everything was by the book.  I was only late by a day and since I'm not like clockwork, it could have been nothing or it could mean I was knocked up.  I told Dave I was debating whether to take the test or just wait a little longer.  We agreed I should take it but hold little expectation (HA!) and if it was negative we'd keep trying.  And if keeping trying doesn't work, we'll look into other options.  Not ready to explore other options, I held my breath as I waited for the digital message to arrive.  After I washed my hands, brushed my teeth, and put my contacts in, I saw the test stop flashing and words on the screen.  One word too many: Not Pregnant.  I sighed, shook it off and went in the bedroom to enjoy my existing family.  We laughed, wrestled, giggled and had fun.  I didn't cry.  Oddly, I didn't have to try not to.  When we finally got around to getting up for the day, Dave said "Hey, did you..."  I nonchalantly said "Yeah, nope, not this time.  It was negative."  He was obviously disappointed, but it was okay.  He said next time could be the time and I agree.

My Kid is a Jerk

Or shall I say, he CAN be a jerk.  As we all can at times, of course.  It just seems that Max's jerkiness is in concentrated form lately.  And on a related note, I've not blogged in 2 months.  How is that related, you might ask?  Well, it's because my life has been crazy since November until a few weeks ago.  Therefore, Max's life has been crazy.  Therefore, he's a jerk.  I took critical thinking in college, I think that's how it works.
So let's reflect.  Several months ago, we decided I could make my return to theatre by directing the January production for Gaslight.  It was a show near and dear to my heart, so leaving Max almost nightly for several weeks would be made easier.  Plus, I "rationalized" it to myself by telling myself that it's important for Max to see me as a person, not exclusively his mom.  A person who not only is capable of things outside our home, but pursues them.  That while balance is very important, so is variety.  Daddy is not the only one who has evening obligations.  I am passionate about people and projects in addition to my family and home.  I do believe these things are important for Max to see and for me to do so I too can see those things in myself.
However, it was hard.  For so many reasons.  I haven't done any theatre since I was pregnant, and I hadn't directed a show since a year prior to that.  Being out of the game that long definitely brings self-doubt and anxiety about every choice.  So now, I'm "abandoning" Max for a project that I'm not sure will even be good.
Dave's schedule hadn't worked out exactly as I had thought it would, meaning Max was spending a lot of nights with my parents.  Trust me, I am so eternally grateful we have them and that they are so close.  Max loves spending time with them and he brings them such joy.  I trust them to make wise decisions with Max and that he will be well fed and taken care of.  However, there are naturally discrepancies in our child-rearing styles, such as bedtime, activities, TV...  Once in a while, these differences are minor and don't have much impact; they're even seen as a treat for Max by him and us.  However, when Max spends so much time with them and then has to return to the rigorous structure of his actual home, there's naturally going to be dissension in the ranks.  And Max didn't disappoint.
Throw Christmas in the mix, especially when Max is the only (young) grandchild on both Dave's and my sides of the family, and you have the makings for a bratty kid.
Now, it's January 23 and Max's behavior has not only not resolved itself, but seems to have gotten worse.  Bedtime takes an hour at minimum, just from the time we first say good night to when he finally settles quietly.  He is waking in the night and wandering into our room, just to ask us (me) to put him back in his own bed.  He's back to not eating well, replacing it with goofy obnoxious table behavior.  And the mouth...I always knew I would have a mouthy kid to deal with as penance for what I put my mom through.  However, I didn't anticipate dealing with it at almost 3; I thought I'd have until 13 at least!  He yells at me, screams "No!" when asked to do something, is so defiant, and downright bratty.  Where did this boy come from??  I am concerned that this isn't just a phase, or worse, that my lack of patience for this behavior will make it irreparable.
I am so proud of the good things I've taught Max.  He (typically) has good manners, saying May I and Thank You.  He (typically) is so sweet and encouraging, frequently telling people he is playing with Good Job! and Nice Try!  He tells us spontaneously that he loves us and willingly gives hugs and kisses.  He has always been a good listener, following directions and shown appropriate responsibility for his age, if not more.  This turnaround is not only infuriating for the obvious reasons, but because it's such a shift from the well-behaved and admittedly "easy" kid I've had for almost 3 years.
I am researching as much as possible to get various perspectives in dealing with a newly difficult child. I understand the developmental psychology of it all.  He is torn between yearning for independence and the inability to accept it.  He feels all the feelings we do, without the strength to handle them.  And I'm sure it just pisses him off when he has to do anything like clean up, stop playing, wash hands, etc.  But I don't know how to react appropriately without ruining his innate spirit.  Plus, half the time, I feel he doesn't give a crap about his consequences, no matter how cruel I fear they may be.
I guess I'm learning that all those people who were jealous of us when Max slept through the night at 2 weeks, was always so happy and pleasant, was so well behaved in church and pretty much everywhere, always was a good eater....they have the last laugh.  Because just when we thought we were ready to have another baby, Max gives us the ride of his life.

Little Man

I don't know when this happened, but I don't have a baby anymore.  I know I've been warned, and I guess on a certain level I was prepared, even excited.  But now that he's gone, I'm mourning him a little.  Fortunately, the little boy that has replaced him is so fun and wonderful and exciting that I am too busy to fall into a depression over my loss.  But sometimes when I watch with amazement all he is capable of and realize he doesn't need me in the same ways as he used to, I feel sad.  Sometimes I even get a little teary.  And then I scold myself because how can I possibly be sad when I have so much joy right in front of me and if I waste my time being sad about what's over, I will miss out on truly amazing things right now.
These crazy thoughts are the things no one tells you about when you become a parent.  I've been told to "treasure every moment", "it goes so fast"....as if I can possibly do anything to slow down time.  But those cliches helped me prioritize my life for sure.   I haven't done theatre since I was pregnant.  2 and a half years.  That's a HUGE leap for someone who did some form of theatre continuously since 1991.  I helped out with directing a one-act this summer and I am diving in head first to directing a musical next month.  I am incredibly nervous about this commitment and the time away from Max, but I am comforted that at least I am home with him now during the day so I won't be in a scenario of never seeing him for 2 months.  But still.  I love putting him to bed.  I love our nighttime routine.  He has just started to want to help make dinner.  Who knows how these things will change by the time my show closes?  And that is when I will mourn the precious hours lost and celebrate the shining star his Daddy helped him become in my absence.  It's an emotional roller coaster, folks.  But it's even crazier than they tell you.