Has it really been six weeks? And three weeks since my last post? I’m not getting much Internet time these days because Miss Fionnuala has her fussy period in the evenings which means she is either screaming or feeding and the result is that I am going to bed really early. Before Fionnuala came I thought I was doing well if I made it to bed before 11 p.m. – these days I’m in bed between 8 and 9 p.m. and then I have to spend the next hour (or more) nursing her into submission so she stops manically flailing at me and I’m just not willing to get out of bed after that (if, life of course, price I am actually awake).
For a while there I was making sure we were getting out of the house everyday so that I could exhaust Moira and keep the tantrums at bay but the result was that I exhausted myself. I’m sure no one is surprised. I wound up getting the stomach flu earlier this week but thankfully I have a husband who can take flex days and stay home while his wife sleeps the day away (with baby permanently attached to her boob of course – the breastaurant doesn’t close for illness). I’ve been put under house arrest this week by the Mister to make sure I am not wearing myself out.
Anyway, capsule there is a lot I would like to write about and a lot I would like to say but it seems that I just don’t have the time. Mostly I want to write a post all about Moira since a friend recently said something like, “it must really suck to have such a difficult child” and I realized I’m giving out the wrong impression of my beautiful, brilliant, blueberry-eyed little girl. And since her Grandmother has taken her off my hands for the day and I can think positively about her, let’s talk about Moira for a while.
This is really her:
As hard as I think this transition has been, in reality it is probably going pretty well. The best thing of all is that Moira LOVES her little sister. The other day she told me she didn’t want a different sister she just wanted Fionnuala. Which is good, because I’m attached to the little bean myself and have no intentions of trading her in. Or having any more.
And this is her:
I think what makes it hard for her father and I is that Moira’s range of emotions is just so vast and, as adults, we have learned to keep everything on an even keel. Picking up a toy for her that she wanted to pick up herself throws her into a crying fit. In fact, these days everything throws her into a crying fit. She vacillates between “I can feed myself, I’m not a baby,” to “Sometimes I just want to be the baby.” (Direct quotes). And so we never know what our actions are going to provoke: peals of laughter or instant tears? I akin living with Moira to living in an abusive relationship because I feel like I am always walking on eggshells around her: will she come out of her room smiling in the morning or already upset over some perceived injustice? However, with the ability to convey such a wide range of emotions comes other things: at (almost) 2 and a half she is deeply empathetic, deeply affectionate, generous and always willing to share (last night I was taking some of her cloth diapers to put in Fionnuala’s room because Miss F is big enough to start wearing them and Moira insisted I give Fionnuala some of her pink diapers – the pink diapers she loves and always picks over the others), always willing to help and she is interested in and questions everything. I keep thinking back to what Lia said in her guest post about showing Moira a bigger world and I’m trying really hard to do that (while not exhausting myself in the process).