What Only A Sibling Knows.
{I asked my beautiful sister to help me out with a post this week to allow more time for family bonding while Willy has off work. He goes back today, by the way, so wish me luck. These few weeks spent with our boys have been some of the best. With no further adieu, here’s some memories from our shared childhood…}
I was right about Hooper’s age when Ashley was born. I have no memories of this trauma but, according to family story, I was so pissed off with this new arrival monopolizing my mother’s time and boobs that I threw fruit at my sister. Namely, bananas. Granted, Hooper has a much sweeter disposition than I will ever have, but I still worry for little Van’s safety.
There’s also a family story that says I despised Ash so much that I called her “beast,” but I couldn’t say beast—it came out as “Beeze.” To this day, that’s what I call her—my Beeze.
We didn’t get along for the first 15-20 years of our lives. There wasn’t all-out fighting (though, don’t be fooled, Ash is vicious), but there was bickering, accompanied by a few sweet moments that revealed the true love beneath—my favorite “trick” was to tell her, “Give me a french fry and I’ll be your best friend.” And she would do it, every time. I’m not sure if you understand how much Ash loves french fries.
It’s only in the last decade or so that I’ve come to truly appreciate the bond siblings have. It’s like no other. There are memories, experiences, and feelings only my sister and I share. There are ways she knows me that no one else will. Ever. Here’s proof:
Ash will remember when:
- We drove the Maui rental car (aka Monsta) all the way around the island
- We smoked that weed before we got on the plane
- We drove by her crush’s house, repeatedly
- We ran around Grandma Helen’s living room while she played the fast piano song, usually after a meal of mac-and-cheese and grape juice
- We pretended our Barbie dolls were Olympic gymnasts, complete with those custom leotards we spent hours sewing
- We caught mom and dad having sex (It happened, mom, stop denying it)
- We thought mom and dad might get a divorce after that Tahoe trip
- We jumped on trampoline until the sun went down
- We busted dad as Santa Claus
- We watched “Price is Right” and ate Eggo waffles with towers of whipped cream every summer morning
- We said, “Don’t tell mom and dad, but…”
- We went to dad’s basketball games, drinking orange soda in the back of his van with those twins whose names I’ll never remember
- We romped with Kasey
- We each flirted with Dan Benson and cruise ship Joe
- We memorized “Nadia”
- We memorized “Grease”
- We rollerskated in the garage to Janet Jackson
- We made dad cry with that picture of us in our softball uniforms
- We almost got away with you having that party while mom and dad were out of town (until dad found the beer bottle in the rose bush)
- We named our goldfish after McDonald’s food
- We begged our parents to have another kid
- We complained about our parents, cried about boys, disagreed about everything, dreamt about gymnastics, shared way too much information about…well, I’ll spare your readers, laughed about everything
One of my most meaningful memories is being there for the birth of Van. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there with all the pain and grunting and bodily fluids. I thought I’d feel helpless, just standing there, but I could tell in her eyes that my presence meant something, even if all I could do was finger-comb her hair and kiss her forehead and tell her, “you’re amazing” (because, fucking hell, labor is no joke).
And now I’m not just her sister; I’m an Aunt to her two little boys. That’s probably my most important title to date.
I wonder what memories Van and Hooper will build together, probably without any of our knowledge. They’ll have stories together known only to them. I can only hope they’ll throw their aunt a bone every once in a while.
Van Meets the Sea.
Dear Van,
Your life will be filled with many firsts: first job, first love, first day at school. Last Thursday was your first trip to the beach. You were 10 days old. You spent most of the time sleeping and eating, per usual. Your Papa and brother spent the day collecting rocks and digging holes. Before I know it, you too will be checking out the ladies, eating sand, and discovering the fun that is your Papa.
So Thursday was the first of what I hope become many trips to the beach. I hope you come to love this place as much as I do. I hope the smell of sunscreen becomes nostalgic and I hope sand is found on the floor of your car on a regular basis. I hope you come to value the freedom in going barefoot and I hope the suns rays treat you warmly.
Love,
Mama
2 Weeks.
I’d be lying if I didn’t confess that this past week has been both magical and ominous at the same time. Magical because, well you know, we created another little human. We are now a family of four and there is nothing sweeter than that. Willy has been absolutely wonderful with Van, so patient and loving. And his relationship with Hooper is stronger than ever. We’ve all really bonded and that’s why, when I look to the near future that is this week, I say things are ominous too. That’s because Willy will be returning to work. That means I will have to juggle breastfeeding the little while making meals and spoon feeding my bigger (because we all know how time consuming feeding our horribly picky and finicky eater can be). It also means that I will have to discipline the bigger one my own, which has become quite the usual occurrence this past week. The culprit is only obvious and I’m hoping that in time the transition to becoming a big brother settles in. There have been a few times where Van has been at the breast and Hooper has come up and whacked him on the head. In steps Willy and over to the corner Hooper goes for his lecture on hitting. Take Willy out of that equation and I’m not sure what to do. I picture myself pulling my hair out, but I know that will happen soon enough on it’s own so I’m not sure what I’m going to resort to. I imagine I will figure it all out and I hope that with each passing day I learn a trick here and there to help me get through the day (preferably with a shower and three meals). To be continued…
As far as recovery goes, I feel shockingly fairly close to normal. I started using the term “normal” just a few days ago and it feels oh so good to let that nice word roll off my tongue. I get a bit sore if I do too much during the day, but so long as I take care of myself, I feel almost back to normal. I will be sharing Van’s birth story on the blog tomorrow, but not included in the story is the fact that I did tear (again). It was one of my biggest fears prior to giving birth the second time and I have to admit that immediately after confirming that Van was okay, I asked, “Did I tear?”. Sure enough, the answer was “stage 3”, same as before. I dreaded recovery instantly, but I’d have to say it has been significantly easier and less painful than the first time. The body has such fantastic ways of healing and caring for itself.
Sleep hasn’t been horrible either. Would you believe me if I said there was one night Van gave me a five hour stretch? And another night a seven hour stretch? Of course those are the exceptions. Interspersed are increments of an hour, maybe two, and sometimes only 30 minutes. Keeping it positive, it’s been nice to catch up on the Olympics in the wee hours of the night as I sit like a potato on the sofa with my lovely glow worm attached to my breast.
First Thoughts…
Prior to giving birth, I worried about Hooper not being the center of my universe. I grieved the inevitable loss of time and attention I’d have with him and be able to give him. In Van’s first week of life, I’ve found the fear to be a reality. I’ve heard other mom’s to two say that it was harder for them than it was for the older child; harder to watch your first baby rely on others for things you alone used to be able to provide for them. I relate with this entirely. Hooper is fine, but as I watch him dance around me or walk out the door with his Papa to get ice cream I feel a hint of sadness. Like he’s cheating on me. This morning Willy bragged from his room, “I’m getting the longest unsolicited hug right now”. My heart sunk. I needed that hug.
That’s the downside. The upside is that, under the best of circumstances, parenting is a two person job. It’s bittersweet. Bitter to watch Willy get hugs he used to only reserve for me. Sweet to watch him embrace the man I love, the man who helped make him. I’ve watched their bond grow over the last few days and it makes it hard to complain when in actuality a beautiful thing is unraveling right before my eyes. The more time Willy spends with Hooper, the more his love for his son grows as well. So ya, there’s a lot of love flowing around these parts.
Hooper insists on holding his brother, but then can’t decide between his brother and Gabba Gabba.
Someone would love to poke an eye out.
“Hey Hoops, where’s your brother?”
Brotherly love.
First Outing.
Dear Van,
Your first outing wasn’t to the grocery store to pick up milk or eggs. It also wasn’t to your grandma’s and grandpa’s. Instead, it was to the tattoo shop. You may not have any recollection of it, but you were indeed there when your grandpa Niles got your name tattooed on his shoulder, right under your brother’s name. We joked before you were born that we were going to name you “Handsome Andrew” just so he’d have to have “Handsome Andrew” tattooed on his arm. I know, total jail bait. In any case, the other day you became legendary and joined an award winning array of other legendary tattoos… 
like the famous trout tattoo…
Or the Arizona flag tattoo…
And, of course, the “Hooper” tattoo…
I have to admit, I’m a little bummed we didn’t go with “Handsome Andrew”.
You will be inked on your Papa’s arm soon enough. Stay tuned.
I love you,
Mama
Then & Now, 1 Week Old
When we were first time parents, we had no idea what we were doing. Who does? (Classroom filled with eager students waiting to be called on simultaneously drop their raised hands and slug down defeated in their desks). We were filled with anxiety and expectations and we were beyond exhausted. Willy had a difficult time bonding with Hooper in the first few weeks. He grew impatient easily with his crying and I had a hard time adjusting to my husband complaining about our baby. My mother bear instinct was extreme and I found myself constantly defending my son. There was also a lot of residual anxiety left over from Hooper’s birth, which was much more eventful than Van’s, in my opinion. Hooper must have sensed his Papa’s anxieties because he only wanted me. This fed Willy’s fear that he was not needed or wanted and added more responsibility to my already filled breastfeeding and recovering schedule. Of course interspersed with all the adjusting was a deep love and amazement over what we created. It just took a little while to get settled. The first week, or even the first month, was coined “survival month”. And we survived.
Van’s first week has been drastically different. Willy bonded instantly. With love came patience and it’s made all the difference in this transition. I can’t say our home is peaceful all the time, there are definite moments of chaos and simultaneous crying and diaper shitting and all the other fun stuff that comes along with balancing taking care of a newborn and a toddler. But the love and patience has lessened the challenge.
The difference has made me question medical induction versus waiting for a baby to come on it’s own. It’s interesting that with all we know medically, we still do not know what exactly causes labor to start. Based on my experiences, it seems that they come when they damn well please. I wonder now if Hooper’s introduction to the world was a little rockier based on the fact the doctor decided he needed to come out. Van is much more peaceful in his first week of life and I can’t help but think of the fact he entered this crazy world when he was ready. I suppose there is something to be said for being parents for the first time too that makes the experience a little hairier and begs the question, “Seriously? These people are letting me take this child home?”. We’re much more relaxed this time around and thus, the transition has been fairly smooth thus far. Can’t say for certain, however, what next week will bring…
Side note: Yes, we realize Hooper looks nothing like the newborn that exited my vagina.
Dear Van.
A little someone has finally decided to grace us with his presence. We welcomed Van into the world on Monday, 9lbs. 8oz. and 21 inches long. When I’m ready to put the experience into words, I will be sure to share. 
Dear Van, these are a few tidbits I wrote to you while you still remained the stubborn little booger in my belly.
-I committed myself to adding two weeks on to whatever due date the doctor gave me after I was eleven days late, and then medically induced, with your brother. I don’t know why I didn’t follow this advice. I guess in some form or another I knew I’d need the support and encouragement if I were to go past my due date. It’s been difficult fielding the text messages, phone calls, emails, and having to deal with other peoples anxieties surrounding when the heck you’re going to join us, on top of my own. There were a couple of overcast and humid days this past week where we actually got rain (yes, rain in southern California in July) and I fantasized about you coming on either of those days. You did not. Then came your Grandpa Niles birthday, another great day to be born. Again, you did not come. And yes, it’s true, I even visited the magic eight ball website who initially said the answer was hazy and to ask again, but then confirmed that you will be born over the weekend. I didn’t hold my breath, but the little bit of hope it gave was comforting. Please know your mom is an absolute lunatic when she’s pregnant. But only when I go past my due date. Before that, I’m just a nice woman carrying around a basketball.
-I started this baby blog for you and your brother when I found out I was pregnant with you.
-Your Papa has been able to work from home on the days I needed extra help. This has been incredibly helpful as of late. He’s anxious for your arrival too, but not nearly as anxious as I am. This is because he thinks I’m going to die birthing you at home.
-The Olympics start this week. I hope to be sitting on the sofa breastfeeding you while watching the gymnastics. Please add this to your mental “to-do” list.
-Your great grandma Helen turned 95 last month. She predicted that you’d come on your due date, the 15th, which was a Sunday. Her prediction was based on the fact that your Papa would be home and she thought you’d be kind enough to wait for the family to be together. You are not kind and she is a wee bit nutty.
-You made me eat horrible. If you are protein deficient, it’s because I gave the Greek yogurt to your brother and ate a cookie instead. It’s your fault, I eat exactly what you tell me I need.
-You kick and wiggle often. It’s a feeling I remember missing greatly after I birthed your brother. The middle-of-the-night dance parties, however, will not be entirely missed.
-I did no prenatal yoga with you. I went weekly with your brother. If I can’t do the splits again post-birth, I blame you. But, then again, which son really wants to see their mom do the splits?
-Hooper understands my belly is called a “baby”. Sometimes he refers to his own belly as a baby. He often gives my belly hugs and sometimes kisses. I’m more than eager to see your relationship with him develop over the years. Please be a better eater than him.
-There is a lot you will learn along the way, but here’s a few tips to get you started: Our family loves sarcasm, so don’t be a pussy about things. Take it and dish it like a man. Sarah is really loving and sweet, but get out of her way when she’s in romping mode. The neighbor is always out sweeping leaves, that’s just what she does. If you grow up with regrets of not having a pool to play in during the 100+ degree days of summer, remember that we wanted one too. We just couldn’t afford it. So save your own pennies. One day you can invite us over for a pool party. When you’re older and wondering what your Papa and I did after you boys went to sleep, the answer is we ate dessert. Yummy yummy desserts we were too selfish to share with you. And lastly, there’s lots of people that love you. Really, really love you. I’m one of them and I can’t fathom anyone loving you more.
So eager for your arrival,
Mama