STOP WHiNiNG. START SCREAMiNG !

Today we had our annual medical appointment in hospital with Leander. Bloodpressure, ECG, Ultrasound. It's mainly routine for us. It's hell for him. But with every visit to hell we come out with a new insight. Today there were quite a few.

For every doctor's appointment I kept preparing Leander. I told him what was coming up and acknowledged his feelings. And yet every appointment was crazy. He was fine beforehand when I told him. He got anxious and silent when we arrived and screamed the hell out during procedures. I did my best and yet I couldn't help him. I was lost.

Then Lisa Sunbury from Regarding Baby gave me a few insightful hints. Because we figured that he was ok before the appointment and a happy boy almost the second we left the room. So what Lisa suggested was:

"I think that is a KEY point... A lot of times WE (as adults) worry, and we want to process or help our child process feelings, but for them, the way they do this is right in the moment... There is the experience, there are the feelings, there is the expression of feelings, and then, (if they are allowed to have and express all of their feelings with our support), they move on, and feel better. The younger the child, the more true this tends to be. Sometimes we hold on to the feelings or experience long after they have moved on, which is not to negate the fact when it comes time to go to the doctor again, the feelings might resurface, and more processing may need to happen."

So I watched Leander carefully the whole time we were in hospital. At one point after he was done with the ECG and allowed to put his shirt back on he suddenly went from crying to screaming. It wasn't that something was hurting him. It was a real and honest "I HATE THIS!!!" scream. You know the healthy one we as adults should let out every now and then too. It looked and sounded so honest that in that moment I felt like joining in. Because I hated it too. I hated the hassle and the lack of understanding they bring towards children and their emotions. In the pediatric clinic!!! I hated being here in the first place. I hated the whole experience that came flashing back every time I set foot in that hospital.

Leander was really really quiet and tense between those procedures while we had to wait for what felt like ages. He cried a lot during the ultrasound as well. Then he was done and he calmed down while we talked to the cardiologists about the results. When we left the room he suddenly wanted to run towards the kids corner . The area he couldn't have cared less about beforehand. When I said that we were done and ready to go he said he wanted to stay and play. Right here and there!!! So yes. Maybe Lisa was right. He had the feelings, he expressed them and he moved on. Done.  

How wonderful. How inspiring. 

All the doctors and nurses are surprised how bad Leander reacts the minute he walks into a room filled with medical equipment. That usually made me wonder. How come that my child was like this? After I spent so much time and effort into preparing him, being honest with him and supporting him all the way through? How come he still had such a hard time?  Today I saw it. It's not that we are not doing enough. It is BECAUSE we are supporting him and he's allowed to express all of his feelings and emotions. He was allowed to do so from day one. 

Distractions never work with him. Because he is not used to them. He gets really mad at nurses holding toys in his face. And so he is not used to holding back his emotions either. He is allowed to let it all out and so he does. He feels safe enough to do so.

Maybe it's about time that we as adults start expressing our feelings too instead of nicely wrapping them in a "Nae thanks, I'm alright." face.
We always just think of how mad a world would be with people screaming around all the time. But maybe we wouldn't have to scream so much if we would just DO it every now and then ?

What would you want to scream about today? 

YOU ARE jUST LiKE... YOURSELF!

In the book "Siblings without rivalry" is a whole chapter about comparison. How much effect it can have when you compare one sibling to the other. I thought about it and was happy that (so far) I am not comparing those two. And that I couldn't really imagine doing so. Ever. Until one day I heard myself say to Mona: "Oh you like that left thumb? Just like your brother." Bam.

Just like that I had compared my children. Not in a bad way. But this is how it starts right? Especially with small children who constantly achieve some milestones. The second one will always be compared to the first. The first tooth, the first smile, the first steps. I constantly compare the two regarding sleeping  or nursing habits. Not in front of each other. But in front of family and friends when they raise the topic. And of course Mona is around most of the time. She listens.

Is that bad? I don't think it's bad to tell one child when he did his first steps in comparison to when the other one did. As long as it remains a story you tell. Not more. Can you do that?
So why not stop the whole thing right there. And start seeing your children as completely different personalities? Which they are !

I like those little challenges in life. Stopping to smoke. Stopping to praise. Remembering to smile more often. To check on my body tension every now and then. So my new challenge is to NOT compare my children to each other.

It's not easy in a world that is based on competition. But what makes our children stand up to it is not lesson after lesson in comparison by weighing one against the other. It's a lifelong lesson in supporting them in whatever they do and what lies within them. Loving them for who they are. Unconditionally.

“Comparison is the death of joy.” (Mark Twain)

Today one of the kindergarden teachers looked at Mona sleeping in her pram and said: "She is really calm." I nodded and said "Yeah she is just like that." and was about to add: "Leander was the same at that age." Instead I just smiled and didn't say anything else.

ENLiGHTENED

It's been a week since my last post. A week since I felt desperate and sad and was close to falling apart. But I didn't. And here is why (I think).

It's not just us
The responses to my post showed me that it wasn't all so unusual. I talked to a lot of people and suddenly realized that many many children reacted the way Leander did when a sibling was born. I wondered why nobody ever talked about it. I mean you read about a little bit of jealousy and that it's important to know what is going on in the firstborn's mind (e.g. the second wife). But nobody seems to mention HOW bad it can get. Until you write a post about it yourself.

Nevertheless that last weekend was mad. Maybe because we now knew it was all normal and we had to sit it out. Maybe because we were so trapped in a bad downward spiral and didn't see the surface anymore. But whatever it was - it changed. Somehow.

Time for myself
On Tuesday I had a day to myself. After the boys left the house in the morning it was just me and Mona as usual. But in the afternoon I had a meeting with our future neighbours from our housing project. And I was very happy to be back talking about ANYTHING else but parenting, siblings, explosions or any child-related topics. I couldn't stay for the whole meeting but I was out till the evening so when I got home I felt refreshed and a little bit more me and myself again.

Stepping out
This "day off" also helped to get a new perspective. Finally I was able to step out of this downward spiral and go back to life without the attitude of it all being so crap anyway and us having to wait until things would change eventually. I had found new energy and hope that WE could change things actively.

Enlightenment
On Wednesday I was standing in the sunshine reading "Siblings without Rivalry" while waiting for a friend. I was still a bit refreshed and awake when I read what may have changed EVERYTHING. Maybe not everything but a major part of it.
Very early in the book they talk about how we get so focused on what our children do (to each other) and say and how we can stop that. And then they mention what could happen if we would see what our children's actions and words are actually trying to tell us. And then I saw it too.
We had been so careful with Leander ever since he was born. We allowed all sorts of emotions and feelings, acknowledged them and helped him through tough situations by simply being there for him and with him. But now - during one of the worst struggles in his life - we didn't see it. All we did was focus on stopping the yelling and screaming and hitting and spluttering. As soon as he yelled at his sister we asked him to stop. Then he yelled at us. We yelled back. He snorted and spluttered at us. We exploded. Over and over again. And now - was it the sunshine, was it me having had a "day off" I don't know - I saw it. The yelling. The spluttering. That was his language. That was all he could find to let us know how unhappy, how sad, scared and desperate he was. And we didn't listen. We just told him to stop. Hold back his feelings. The feelings that were bad and abandoned.

In this moment I may have dropped a few stones and hovered a few inches above the ground. This was it. If I could allow the yelling maybe I could get through to him. All I had to do was give him words instead. And this was when the next penny dropped.
We didn't even have the right words for what he was feeling or what we were feeling. Sad. Mad. Desperate. Alone. Hopeless. Scared. All we ever said was "You are angry, right?" over and over again.
Angry. Angry. That wasn't just it. There was much more. But he didn't know how to say.
What we had to do was see the situation itself. "You are sad because I have to nurse Mona again. You wanted me to play with you now." He needed to be seen. In Detail not in general.

I was so relieved that I was  looking forward to the afternoon with him again instead of having stomach aches by the thought of a few hours with both kids alone. And what can I say - it was great. All afternoon I was ready for the yelling and screaming. But it didn't come. Ok there was the occasional very loud "MONAAA!" he shouts at her every now and then - but I just let this happen. We got home and all went smooth. When he got a little upset because I had to nurse her again after I had just done it half an hour ago and he thought I was done with her I told him "You are upset. You don't want me to be with her again." He nodded, went away and played with his cars. It was almost spooky.

It has been like that ever since. The rest of the week and this weekend was almost quiet. When he yelled at his sister I checked her reaction first. I didn't stop him right away. So he didn't have to yell at me. I didn't have to yell at him. He didn't have to splutter. I didn't have to explode.

Go with the flow
When it comes to sleeping we don't argue or discuss with Leander. If he needs us at night he gets us. At the moment it's my husband who moves in with Leander when he calls at night. The bed is big enough and cosy. We went through times when he called EVERY night. And we just let it happen. Because we learned that if we don't argue with him and don't make a big deal all goes back to normal in no time.
Why we don't do that when it comes to playing I don't know. I got so focused on him playing by himself and how important that is that I forgot to simply drop the laundry and sit down with him. So this is what I do more and more often now. And this leads to him playing. Even alone for a little bit. I think this is all I can do right now. No more battles. No more discussions. Just going with the flow. If we try to "work" on too many construction sites at once we might end up forgetting what really is important.

He's ok
In order to have an appointment with our family counsellor we wanted to talk to his teachers in kindergarden first. We haven't had a proper talk yet but a quick chat in the morning was quite surprising to us. Apparently Leander is doing fine and laughs and jokes with the other children. He has not changed since the arrival of his sister. But most importantly - he plays. He works with the material there and can concentrate for long periods of time. So it is "just" us. And the kindergarden is his safe place right now. Where he might enjoy the daily routine. Knows how things are and that nothing will change that rapidly again.
And that was all I needed to know for now.


Well - he still does not like his sister very much. He still gets upset when I am with her more than he wants me to. But that's ok. That's what I expected and what I can handle.
And I am sure there will be more tough days to come. Especially with a week of bad weather and a closed kindergarden ahead. Because what hasn't changed is that he follows me around the house EVERYWHERE. That he needs me ALL THE TIME. And that he can't play for long on his own. So we'll see. On the other hand - who knows what this week will bring? Maybe it's a good thing having him at home for a few days. Until the grandparents come. Easter. And his birthday. And spring.

A CALL FOR SUNSHiNE

Today when I was picking up Leander from kindergarden I had to nurse Mona in order to get both kids home without major screaming issues. We went inside and sat down in the cloak room area. Leander surrounded me all the time and even tried to sit on my lap while I was nursing. He kept leaning over and squeezing her onto me. Kissing and stroking her a bit more than gentle. I asked him to be careful or to stop it. At some point I just yelled "Stop it!" A teacher sat next to me and in that very moment jumped in and said to Leander "Oh you wanted to kiss her. That's sweet but you need to be very gentle with her."

I thought "Oh is this something I should have said?" And then realized - I have said things like this. A million times. But at this very moment I felt nothing but tired and exhausted.

The usual contact Leander has with his sister is yelling her name directly into her face. Really loud. Or simply yelling. When we ask him to stop that he yells at us. Or spits. Or hits. Anything. I don't know how often I have told him that I don't want that. That hitting is not ok. That I won't let him do this or that. To his sister or to us. To be honest I think I may even have said it far too often. So I keep not responding because I feel like a parrot repeating everything over and over. Without actually meaning it. Because what I really wanna do is get up and yell "FOR F***s SAKE STOP IT !!!"

I'm sorry. But this is exactly how I feel right now. Exhausted. Tired. At my very limits.
From morning till evening I am trying to be responsive and respectful. Loving. But whatever I do - it's not enough. NEVER ENOUGH. I hear the word "Mama" around 10 times in a minute. If I respond or not doesn't make a difference- it keeps coming. I am being followed around the flat wherever I go. And since Leander is not very gentle with his sister I even allow him to follow me to the toilet. Just to know her safe.
When I nurse her he surrounds me. As soon as I stop he asks me to put her away and play with him. When I play with him he sits on my lap and wants me to play for him. Even when he plays he asks me to help him with everything he is doing while he is doing it himself without any help. When I lean back he wants to sit on my lap again. When I get up he jumps up too. And follows me.
He has realized that I won't ignore his needs so if I don't come with him when he asks me while I am caring for Mona he says he is hungry. And then watches me juggle her and his needs at the same time.

I am telling him when I need breaks. I am trying to have breaks. He won't let me have them. He will stand next to me saying "Mama!" a million times while I am trying to have a break.
I am saying No. I say it nice but strong. He does not accept it. Then I say it louder. Then he yells or spits and that drives me so mad that I yell. Or leave the room in order to stay somewhat sane.

I watch him struggle and fight with sadness. Pure sadness. But at the same time I think he needs to learn and understand. I know that at some point he will but WHEN ??? Because right now I feel close to a nervous breakdown. I wanna run into the forest and scream. Very very loud. I wanna smash things and cry my guts out. And then I want my son back. The one I used to have.

I don't even know how much of his behaviour is the almost 3-year old in him and how much is the recent arrival of his baby sister. And then there are other issues I don't know where to place. That he can't play. Not on his own. Not self directed. NOT AT ALL. It makes me sad and angry at the same time. He is almost three and should happily explore the world.

And somewhere in there I am trying to be me. In the mornings when he is in kindergarden and his sister is asleep I have a minute for myself. And the laundry. The dishes. Lunch. The closer it gets to picking up time I keep building up patience and hope for a better afternoon together. We get home around 3.30pm. By 4.30pm I am so tired I could drop dead on the sofa. If somebody would let me. Leander is exhausted too. Today he fell asleep on my lap at 5pm. And then I look at him. Stroke his hair and hope for a better day tomorrow.

I try and talk to him. But when we have a minute I am lacking words. What is there to say? "I love you now matter what?" Why would I then care for that little creature and not for him? How would he understand that better? So often we sit there and not mention her at all. Because after her being the big issue in the house all day I don't want to mention her name when it is quiet for a moment. I just want... to be together in peace and silence.

What to do? I don't know. I am at loss here. We are thinking of seeing a family counsellor we have regular group consultations with. But this time a whole session just for us. With the kids. And some springtime with visits to the playground so he can release some energy. Some sunshine. Outside and in the house. Our hearts. That would be nice.

THE SECOND WiFE

Last night I told Leander that today I will come to pick him up from the kindergarden with his Dad. Since I've given birth I was rather resting at home and Jan had done the kindergarden round. From next week on this will be my job again so today is gonna be a first trial. Leander seemed happy and when he told me: "Mama picking up. Papa picking up. Mona picking up." although I hadn't mentioned her before I realized that he has now accepted his sister as part of the family.

I can't say it has been an easy walk for him. But we never expected that.



Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish mention in her book "Siblings Without Rivalry" one situation:

"Imagine that your spouse puts an arm around you and says, "Honey, I love you so much, and you're so wonderful that I've decided to have another wife just like you."

At first I thought this might be a little exaggerated. But the more I thought about it and the more I watched Leander being referred to as the "big boy" or "big brother" even before the baby was born so often I realized - this is exactly how he must feel!

As soon as it is clear that your bump is surely not just too much chocolate and ice cream but in fact a growing baby belly people ask you about you're well being, the due date and the sex of the baby. And if Leander was around people almost always turned to him and said: "So you're gonna be a big brother! How exciting!"
He usually just looked at them slowly reaching for his thumb to put in his mouth.

And so it begins. Mom is the center of attention and everyone keeps talking about "the baby". Until one day you come home from kindergarden and there it is. The baby. The "little sister" called Mona. And before you can grasp it, before you get to realize what this tiny little bundle comes with it all goes on.

"So you're a big brother now!" 
"How do you like your little sister?"
"Are you excited?"
"What's her name?"
"You need to be really careful around her!"
...

And they all say that with a glance of joy and excitement in their eyes. Only Leander was not so excited. So joyful. So happy.
He did smile when he saw her. He wanted to hold her, hug her, kiss her. He was very very gentle. And although it was so adorable to watch I found it really important not to get too excited. I wanted it to be normal and natural. And not something we had to act all surprised to. I didn't want him to feel as if I did not trust him to be like that.
And I also knew he needed time. And he didn't know yet what this all meant for him in the long term. That Mama would be cuddled up with the little sister for many hours of the day feeding her. That whenever Mona would wake up Mama would have to "leave" - may that be during play, meal times or bed time rituals. That this apparently fun little sister wasn't so much fun yet. Basically just lying there sleeping or eating being all cute and adored by the whole family and everyone who came to visit.
And so slowly you could watch Leander become a little less interested in his sister. And not excited by people referring to him as the big brother.

It was just all too normal that he fought. That he "acted out" and asked for every bit of attention he could get. Using all sorts of strategies he knew would get our focus. And while I was tired and lacking patience it made me so sad seeing him like that. Because the thought of my husband coming home with another beautiful and adorable woman, preferably a few years younger, maybe funnier just makes me want to shout and scream and throw things too.

And again I was thankful to be prepared. To not say things like "You are a big boy now you have to be ..." (choose one from the list of responsible, reasonable, quiet, careful, loving etc...) or something like that. Because these are the sentences we know from our own childhood, from relatives and our own parents. Sentences we say quite often without even thinking about. And I am not blaming the grandparents who came to visit and say them all. Let's say I am just glad to have quickly erased them after they have left and filled the blanks with a hug, a cuddle or a "This is all very new and confusing for you I guess?" that was usually answered with a quiet thumb sucking nod.

So together I think we made it through the first struggles quite ok. We are still trying to find a routine so that everyone gets his piece of the Mama/wife cake. But with little Mona growing and finding a rhythm we will get there. And one day Leander will be the proud big brother. Until then he is and stays my little boy.

EVERYTHiNG CAN FLY

As long as I can remember Leander has one thing that will for sure make me climb up the walls and make me go completely nuts. It's throwing. As soon as he was able to throw or drop things he did. And it wasn't just the normal developmental "figuring out how things behave when thrown or dropped". It was also wild and random. And dangerous at times.

The first times I got really mad was when wooden toys like cars, trains or blocks hit me. I would shout or yell, run off in order not to hit him. Then it drove me mad that he threw things on the floor. For one thing I am very sensitive to such loud noises. The other thing is that I would love to get as much of our deposit as possible back when we move out. And at some point I went mad already when he just lifted things up in the air. And he knew. He knew that was all he needed to do and I would become serious and drop everything I was doing in that very moment.

When we still went to the playgroup I was very nervous because he almost hit other kids with wooden objects when throwing things there. My fear and also anger would accompany us both and only now while I write this down I actually understand how much this was between us. In the air. I sent out those signals and he responded accordingly. As he does. With everything.
In the parent consultation group that was part of that playgroup I raised the topic and we made a little role play out of it. And when I played myself and another woman played Leander I had to laugh a lot. I behaved like a clown jumping up and down trying to stop him from throwing objects. It was all about stopping the throwing. For good.

So in order to stop me from behaving like a clown and him from even having a chance to throw I would take large or wooden objects away. I would offer lots of soft balls or chestnuts, corks or baskets. All stuff I was capable of watching fly through the living room. And there were times when it was better and I said to my husband: "I think the throwing has stopped."

Well - guess what: it hasn't. Over Christmas when we spent a lot of time together and some of it indoors due to some illnesses keeping us down we experienced some more of our little olympic athlete in discus throwing. And a little more of me going up the walls.
Yesterday it all had its peak when I suddenly took him, went to his room, sat him on the floor, left and went to the living room not very gently closing the doors in behind me. I heard him cry. I took three deep breaths and went back in. I hugged him and told him what had happened. And when AGAIN I tried to convince him to just stop the throwing I couldn't even listen to myself anymore. Because it wasn't just the throwing. And it wasn't just him. It was us. Mainly me. And a lot more.

One thing I tend to do when he throws things at me is either try and catch it or pick it up quickly and (here it comes): madly smash it on a wall or door or anywhere to get rid of the first anger that hits me. If I am still mad as hell I leave the room banging the doors (they must be in good shape cos none of them broke so far) and calming myself down while he either cries or silently waits for me to come back. And while I realized that the answer to throwing isn't necessarily throwing I tried hard to restrain myself from it. Resulting in even harder door banging. Or yelling even louder.

But yesterday another thing occurred to me: The way we behave in our house with objects. When I tidy up I don't just carry things to the place they belong. I might throw some books on the sofa to clean up from there later. I throw the dirty clothes around everywhere in the bathroom or bedroom to collect before I put them in the washing. Our shoes lie around everywhere in the entrance. I throw scarfs and hats up onto the hat rack. I might gently chuck the cheese from the fridge onto the table. You know not the heavy throwing but I don't always put things down gently and quiet. Especially when I am having a bad day or when I am in a hurry. I know what I can handle how and I know what books I want to be careful with and which I am about to bring to the second hand shop. Stuff like that.
Well - we are role models here aren't we? When Leander gets (un)dressed his jumper, his jacket, his trousers - they all fly. In the evening I don't care cos I might just pick it up on my way out of his room to take it to the bathroom. In the mornings it drives me mad. And these are the objects that fly that won't hit or hurt me. But what about his cars. His trains and tracks. His building blocks. His books. Or our stuff. How is he supposed to know what is ok to gently be thrown and what not? It's like trying to teach him that when no car is approaching he can cross the street although the lights are red. It's not possible. And not safe.

Today when he threw books around I remembered what I had learned in the Montessori course I did: That we want to give our children materials that are of nice quality and shape. To show them how much we worship them by letting them use real cups, glasses, ceramic bowls and stuff instead of just cheap plastics. But they also should learn that these things are somewhat worthy. And that we should be gentle with everything around us. May that be books, our clothes, plants, animals or humans.
So everything I am lifting and shifting, everything I am touching I am trying to be gentle with now. I always admired those people who have this silent aura. Who move quietly, talk slowly and silently and have this calm self. It all goes hand in hand doesn't it? And with my actual really crazy spleen of hating loud noises (having someone eating an apple next to me drives me nuts) I should have gotten there a long time ago shouldn't I? Well. Better now than never is my hope.

But after yesterday I wasn't relieved and happy with those thoughts. Leander was well upset all evening and when we were reading a book about the little mole and the mouse in it crying cos her house was broken he said to me: "I am sad too." And when I asked if it was because of me being so angry and loud he quietly nodded along.
In the evening when my husband went to sleep and I couldn't due to some kicking baby in my belly I read two of Janet Lansbury's wonderful posts on toddler behavior.

- "No bad kids - Toddler Discipline without shame (9 guidelines)"
- "No angry kids - fostering emotional literacy in our children"

Because I know it's not just about the throwing. It's way more. It's tiredness. A call for attention. Frustration. Overstimulation. A wake up call for me. You name it. And as long as I don't find a way to control my own response to it I can offer him more soft toys that are safe to fly. But the actual problem will not be solved. And hoping that it might lead to a career in discus throwing might be a tad too early I guess. (Despite the fact that it isn't really funny, I know).

FUN MOMMY

We had a wonderful Christmas break. Ok at first Leander was ill. Then me. There were some really rough days. But still. We had a lovely break. Just the three of us. Probably for the last time. Ever. I can not put into words how much that freaks me out right now.




The countdown says it's only 18 days to go until the due date of the little baby sister. So basically it could happen any time. And I'm torn. Torn between being excited and happy to walk this journey altogether again but also being sad and terrified of having to split my time and energy between two children. I have no doubt that I will be able to love them both as much as possible. I don't fear loving Leander less than I do now or being able to feel for his sister any different. But what about those 24 hours a day has. Not a second more, no matter how much I wish for it to be possible.

I'm also torn between wanting another 6 months of pregnancy just to be alone with Leander and his little sister to arrive RIGHT NOW so this whole walrus-life finally comes to an end. I'm not that big and round. But I feel big and round. I move slowly. I need a toilet around every corner. I can't hop up and down on the bed. I can't chase him around anymore. I can't drive his cars and trucks around the living room without aching and puffing. I can't join the boys to go to the swimming pool or spa. And I have my moments. When all of this occurs to me and I want to scream and be fun mommy again. When I want to jump into puddles with him because I used to loooove this as a kid AND as an adult too. I want to stand in front of every sparkly shop window and look at the bright and shiny Christmas decoration with him without needing a toilet or having the feeling of the baby falling out any second. I want to go to the parks and forests around Vienna to be closer to nature than just in the dusty grey city but portable toilets for the pocket have not been invented yet. I don't want to hold and protect my belly when lying next to Leander on the sofa.

But the worst part is - how do I tell him? I don't want to mention the baby all the time. So I'm tired. I was ill - ok that was reasonable. I'm exhausted. And yes - sometimes I just DO have a baby belly that stops me from doing things. And now Leander is saying things like:
"Mama - no toilet no???"
"Mama - not tired no???"
"Mama - where are you???" while I'm sitting right next to him.

So - where am I?
I'm in a place of letting go. I have watched the two boys here bond even closer over the past few months. Fun Daddy who takes him out when it's too much. Who goes swimming with him and who picks him up when he is too tired to walk the stairs to the top floor. I am happy for them but I feel left out at times. I feel like losing my little boy although I know this is not true. But when will I be back?
The baby is coming soon. She will need me. A lot. If all goes well I will be her main food supply during the first 6 months. I will spend the mornings with her and the afternoons with her and Leander. If I am lucky I get to spend some time in the evening with Leander. When he is tired and exhausted from his day. And I will be tired and exhausted too, let's face it.

Jesper Juul, a wonderful Danish educator, said that it is important for the first born to have lots of quality time with his dad. Because both are missing those moments with the most important woman in their life. They are sharing something common. So yes - they are lucky to have each other. But it is tough for me to watch that and not being able to do much about it. To let go. For a while at least.

But somehow I hope it will work out. And that despite of less sleep, my baby brain and the challenge of being calm and respectful to two children and a husband I will be fun mommy again. Soon.

Any experiences and advices are highly appreciated. Thank you!