The whole time I was pregnant, I fretted about being able to cope with the sibling rivalry. My brother and I fought, tooth and nail (sometimes literally) until I moved out of the house to go to college. Seriously. You know those cute stories where the siblings bicker and argue, but when some other kid comes around to pick on the younger kid, the older one suddenly intervenes and defends him? Yeah, that wasn't us. Any kids came around to make John's life miserable, I was cheering them on the whole way.
"Don't worry about it," well-meaning friends told me. Even the ones with multiple kids said, "The biggest problem I have is keeping [Older Child] from loving [The Baby] too much!" I ignored them. Obviously, these people had never seen John and I together. I continued to fret and ponder strategies for getting both kids to the age where I could legally kick them out of the house.
So, of course, my biggest problem is when Penny loves Alex too much -- when she wants to give him hugs and kisses while he's eating, or wants to pick him up and carry him, or wants to be a bridge for him to crawl under, over, or around.
Penny walked early and talked late, and she never really cared to put things in her mouth unless she honestly meant to eat them. She insisted on being held most of the time, and she wasn't much of an explorer; she mostly wanted Matt and I to play with her toys for her, so she could watch us. Alex isn't walking yet (though he's managed a few staggering steps, so I don't think he'll be a late walker), is extremely verbal, and is often perfectly content to play by himself. He explores his surroundings thoroughly, handling objects and turning them over and over and poking his tiny fingers into every crevice and crack. He puts everything -- everything -- in his mouth.
He sleeps like a champ, taking naps with nary a fuss and sleeping through the night since he was three and a half months old. But he's more than a bit of a drama queen, and will thrust The Lip out in a pout on an instant's provocation. Alex is a baby of extremes; he is either HAPPY!!! or SAD!!! and does not spend much time on the ground between.
"Mommy," Penny said, "are you sad that I'm growing up?" She was remembering her preschool graduation, and the teary eyes of the parents and teachers. But it doesn't make me sad. I'm watching a beautiful young woman slowly emerge from the petal-soft child, just as I saw that loving and precious child bloom out of the promising seeds of her infancy, and stronger than any wistful nostalgia is my pride, and my excitement. My eagerness to meet that young woman vastly outweighs any urge to cuddle close the baby she once was.
Alex is still a baby. Not walking, not talking. It's hard for me to even imagine him as a toddler, yet. But he's grown so much this year, learned so much, done so much. I enjoy looking back over the year, but more than anything, I'm thrilled to be approaching the boy he will become.
Happy Birthday, Alex. May you enjoy a hundred more.
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