While I knew it would be a hard transition, Spencer still managed to surprise me. We started off the day with a great trip to Kroger. Spencer sat so nicely in the car-ish grocery basket--although I did look down to him holding a box of cereal which the manufacturer had managed to turn into a peanut-allergy hazard. Yanked that away. It was even organic, ha! He's allergic to both, by the way, organic peanuts or genetically modified, pesticide-laden ones. I let him pick out some of the first pumpkins we'd seen for sale, since I knew things were about to get hectic. He held them the whole time, and managed to rip the stem off of one before we'd even gotten out of the produce section.
It was WICKEDLY hot, but a nice man helped us out of the store. I always tell them that I don't need any help, but this time I thought, "Yeah, I'd love some help!" So, I let them push the basket out for me. Then, he loaded the groceries into my car! Life lesson: if you look pregnant enough, people generally tend to be kind and helpful (not everyone, but more people than usual). Unfortunately, it's before I look pregnant that I'd really love a little extra kindness, aka, basket-pushing-out-service-with-a-smile. And that's the exact time people think you're a loser mother, poorly dressed, unshowered, with a cranky, insecure, loud toddler screaming and not even a glimmer of the will to power on your countenance to let them know that you do not, in fact, plan on visiting him in the penitentiary within the next couple of years. But that's another post altogether.
At nap time, however, Spencer reminded me that he was, in fact, paying very much attention to what was going on around him. He decided instead of sleeping, that he would take this last opportunity as an only child to remind his mom why she wanted to do it all over again. He smeared poop all over his antique bed, focusing especially on the wooden side boards with a few smears on the mesh and metal safety rails for good measure. I'm pretty sure it is still in his rug. I sniffed and cleaned for quite some time before collapsing. I weighed in at 194.6 lbs. the next morning. I'm only 5 feet 5 and 3/4 inches tall. Leaning over was quite the feat of engineering.
Later that afternoon, Spencer found me getting bottles sterilized and ready. He then proceeded to adopt one. Consequently, when we brought Evelyn home and didn't let him give her a bottle, he was devastated. In hindsight, why in the world did I not let him give her a bottle? It would have lasted no time at all. I almost caved at the time--and I probably should have. Sleep deprivation does a number on my logic and critical thinking skills.
But, the piece de resistance occurred that evening. The evening before his sister would be forced into the world. The evening before he would be forced from his place of my one and only. He was in rare form at my parents house that night. He was running and giggling, and being extra silly. But, to be honest, many nights would have the exact same description. He just lives on a different plane. [I'd like to insert a plug for the book "Raising Your Spirited Child"--it's good]. It was at this point that he grabbed a glass off of a side table in the living room. He knew he shouldn't have it, and that was fun. But it wasn't quite the thrill he was hoping for. So, since all of our faces weren't reflecting QUITE enough horror, he decided to swirl the glass around a couple of times, and then spike it onto the hard wood floors. Did I mention the glass contained wine? Yeah, of course it wasn't a glass full of water. As shocked and dismayed as I was at his behavior--and I actually was a little shocked. I wish I could stop feeling that way, but for some reason, he still manages to surprise me. Am I an optimist? I never thought so!--nothing was quite as amazing as seeing both of my parents, NOT known for their leniency during my childhood, start laughing hysterically at the whole event. My dad finally asks my mom how he can help, and tells me it's really not a big deal and not to worry about it. I hear myself ask them to stop laughing so that I can proceed to properly discipline my child for what he's done in his last night as an only child frenzy. They manage to pull it together a little. Spencer does not. We leave in quite a whirlwind. I could write six thousand words and not describe all of the feelings, images, expressions, noises, chuckles, and screams that occurred in what was approximately four seconds of "real time."
This was what I was bringing another child into the world to experience--my attempt at being a mother.
I didn't fall asleep 'til 10:45, knowing that the real adventure was yet to come.
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