Dearest Second Child (I should probably learn your name soon),
I am so sorry for the kind of mom you got. Your big sister got a very, very different mom than you. Her mom was there for every milestone, no matter how small, and got pictures to prove that they happened. Your mom was so busy trying to remember the last time she showered that she not only missed the first time you rolled over, and the second, but the first FOUR times you rolled over. When your sister was little, her mom never let her stay in pajamas all day—especially not in public. Your mom will leave you in the same pajamas and simply cover you with a blanket so that the old ladies at The Y don’t judge her. And she’s almost certainly going to use that blanket to wipe your chin when you spit up—which you inevitably will. She’ll probably wash it later. Next time she does laundry. A week from now.
Your sister’s mom started planning her first birthday 6 months out. Your mom ordered one of those personalized photo calendars and entered your birthday on the wrong date. She probably wouldn’t want me telling you this, but she didn’t notice it until the third time she looked through it. Your sister got baths every other day without fail. Early on, there was a point when your mom looked at you and honestly couldn’t remember the last time she had bathed you. When she texted that fun fact to a friend, she was met with the response of, “That means it’s time.” Indeed it was, little one.
Big sister had organized drawers replete with cute outfits and pretty handmade headbands. You don’t have those things because your mom has lost all of them/hasn’t had time to hand sew faux pearls onto meticulously created fabric flowers. Instead of outfits that match, you get outfits that are clean and/or kind of fit. (Did you know that when regular baby pants get too small, they can sort of pass for baby capri pants?) You recently had your first Christmas which would have been the perfect opportunity to buy you some of these things. But do you really think your mom was going to do that since she’s the type of mom that forgot to buy a ‘baby’s first Christmas’ ornament until three days after the fact and then picked one up in the clearance section of Kroger? Again, she didn’t realize her oversight until she packed up the tree and counted 4 of said ornaments for Big Sister.
I am so sorry that half of your lunch time bottles are on the go and propped in your stroller while I chase your sister around some discovery center/play place/the nearest Target/liquor store. (Except if my pediatrician is reading this. In which case that was just a funny joke about bottle propping because I would never actually do that.) I have already forgotten the age when you got your first tooth. I think it was around 5 months-ish. Maybe 4 months. 6 months? Whatever. You’re probably ready for puffs.
It is the curse of the second child. I can’t devote all my time to you, but I’m less crazy than I was with Bis Sister because I don’t have the energy to be. I promise that one day I’ll make it up to you…somehow. Although you’ll need to remind me because I’ll probably be busy bailing your sister out of jail or helping to run her presidential campaign. It could go either way with that one.
Love,
Your Mom
