My Special Baby Crazy

I commented a little over at Pinwheels about big brothers/little sisters. I'm wondering how many of us Special Needs Mamas still felt the baby bug after having our special-er little one. In the midst of all the worry, concern, grieving for the perfect baby you thought you'd have, maybe even grieving for the birth that you wanted to experience, wondering if the older members of your family will accept and love your new one despite his differences, and the exhaustion is there time for being baby crazy for more children?

I have wanted 3 kids for as long as I have wanted kids. I'm 43 years old and I mean since 2002 (6 years), the year my husband proposed. I figured I wasn't too old to have kids but that we'd have to get moving on it as soon as the giant huge wedding happened. My husband would joke about wanting 5 kids, but I told him I could probably only manage 3 pregnancies in the time I had left so he'd better make 2 of those twins. Somehow, in that banter and joking it got set in my head that we would have 3 to make a family of 5. I just cannot shake that.

So we had The Biscuit right away and I think of him as a celebration of our wedding, though he was a little bit later than a honeymoon baby. We had The Cupcake in a celebration of finally getting to act like a family and take The Biscuit on vacation to my family's cabin in Montana. It was exhilarating, fun, and what we should have been able to do the year before, but the pediatric cardiologist said 4 hours away from the nearest hospital was unacceptable.

On the way home that year we drove home a totally different way than we had ever gone and passed through Logan, Utah. We stayed at a beautiful Hampton Inn, bought some flip-flops for me at a Wal-Mart (I place I only shop at on vacation through no great plan, that's just how it works out), and were excited that the only Starbucks was right across the street and had Grand Opening signs up. Turns out they were opening the next week, so no hot chocolates for us, but we still left Logan with a nice feeling. A feeling that for me has turned into baby #3. NOT THAT I'M PREGNANT. BECAUSE I AM NOT PREGNANT. I just know that somewhere out there Logan is waiting for us and someday Logan will be my third child. I know this with every looney cell in my looney body. I am totally open to the idea that by the time we are ready I'll be too old and Logan will come to our family by adoption. But I completely believe that he (or she) will come.

So, for now, I'm kinda perma-baby crazy. In a very specific way. And The Biscuit's special needs do play a part in it. It's guilt for what The Cupcake may need to do when we are gone. She may have to shoulder the responsibility for caring for him. And if Logan does join our family then she will have someone to share that responsibilty with. Otherwise it's all.on.her.

Duh-duh-duh! [/ominous music] Mommy guilt sucks.

I took the time to sit down and write this out tonight while making dinner (late, again) because The Cupcake came to the gate between their playroom and the kitchen and asked for some milk, by telling me her cup was "T" (empty). As soon as I took it and seemed satisfied with her signing MORE PLEASE she ran off and got her brother's empty cup and brought it to me too. So here we are. She's not even 2 years old and it seems to just be a part of her to help. She has Eldest Daughter syndrome, and there's not a darn thing I can do about it. Lucky Logan.

Our Visitor

One of the highlights of our trip was waking up to a voice mail message on my cell phone from the alarm company. One of our motion detectors had gone off. I called them back and told them we were in California and asked could they tell me any more? Just that the police had been called and we were safe to assume that the police had found nothing since the police had not called the alarm company back. Yeah, right. So we called the police dept and got basically the same answer. The officer had found nothing. Had he looked in the backyard? Oh, of course, they always do that. Uh-huh.

As our trip continued we realized that the zone that had gone off was the one that is incorrectly labeled as a motion sensor and is really a door or window -- we couldn't remember which. Great.

So when we arrived home my husband walked all through the house and all around the house and found nothing. Ok, must have been nothing.

About 6 hours later (I think), after having been out in the mud room numerous times to tend to laundry, guess what flew from the mud room into the kitchen? A bat. That's right, a frickin' bat! We finally convinced it to go back to the mud room where we could shut it off from the rest of the house. Then my husband went around and opened the back door and eventually convinced it that outside was better than inside.

Good times. At least when the alarm went off it wasn't a false alarm. At least no one got bit. My advice is to not leave unscreened doors and windows open when packing a car at night for a trip. Or to get screens. I know I really want them now.

And we're baaaaaaaaaack!

(You should hear Jimmy Fallon's voice when reading that title, btw.)

Turns out that vacation with a toddler and an infant is a lot of work.

We went off on vacation and are finally home. I still am not unpacked -- why bother when the dryer is broken and there's nothing but dirty clothes in the bags? I also haven't downloaded new photos from the camera and cell phone. So.much.to.do.

But since I left without saying anything (kind of like not leaving "We are out of town" on the answering machine), I thought I would at least mention that we made it home alive.