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When Beauty arrived home, we were in the midst of a blustery, snowy Chicago winter. It was freezing outside, but my heart was filled with a warmth beyond words. My daughter, a little girl I loved so strongly before she ever even took her first breath nine months prior, was here, in my arms. Our family of three had transitioned to a beautiful family of four and my heart was positively bursting with love. I’ve mentioned in past entries that my children are only 10.5 months apart in age; I’ve also mentioned the issues we dealt with upon Beauty’s transitional period of homecoming. This is my entry dedicated to Bear’s side of the same story.
When I was pregnant, my husband and I rejoiced over every kick, hiccup, and so forth. We took tons of pictures documenting my ever-expanding waistline; we prepared Bear’s nursery months before he was born. When he cried that first, incredible cry in early May of 2006, we cried even harder, floored by this new sense of love and the miracle of life. It was an amazing time in our lives.
That said, we were first time parents; Bear is very much the typical “firstborn”, complete with a touch of first-child syndrome. We were, dare I say, a bit overly cautious and attentive to his every need or passing whim. I was–and still am–blessed with the ability to stay home with the kids (a job I love far beyond the occupation I adored prior to Bear’s birth). I knew we were in for a transition upon Beauty’s homecoming. After all, I had been able to devote 24/7 to Bear’s needs and desires. This would no longer be the case upon Beauty’s arrival. And as anticipated, we faced our fair share of issues indeed.
Bear didn’t take too kindly to sharing the limelight with Beauty. While he adapted better than we could’ve imagined, it was still trying. He was the Midwestern King of Tantrums. He was never (and still isn’t) a “violent kid”–no hitting, biting, or the like–but he was able to toss out a fit of kicking and screaming with the best of them. My husband and I spent as much “alone time” with him as we could. I wasn’t ready or willing to leave Beauty with a sitter, but we would plan their naps at opposite times to give both of them a little much needed one-on-one time with the two of us (or just me, if my husband was working). It helped. But Beauty was the one who really solved the transitional difficulties.
How, you might ask, did a nine month old solve the issues that come along with the transition of adding a new child to the family? Easy. She laughed.
Beauty smiled a ton from the moment we met her and became a family. But she was a little more reserved with her laughter. However, since the day she set foot (so to speak) on American soil to this very day (almost two years later), no one–positively no one–can make her laugh like Bear. From giggles to full out belly laughs, Bear knows the way to get Beauty positively rolling. Sure, she’s laughed for all of us, but as far as flat-out hysterical laughter? Only Bear holds the key to that one.
I confess: I love it. There is no sweeter music than that of your children’s laughter, especially when they’re laughing together. Sure, there were difficulties for Bear to face as he adapted to sharing the spotlight, but almost two years later, he has a daily playmate, a partner in crime, a co-conspirator: a best friend. And I have a house filled with laughter–one of the sweetest sounds to any mother’s ears.
