The First Vs. The Third

The First Baby (Chloe)

The Third (Sadie)

I've been thinking lately about how differently I parent now from when I first started almost six years ago. Some lapses are alarming, while other changes show that I am making progress as a mother. For example:

With the FIRST baby, I went to the pediatrician the second she sneezed. I remember I took Chloe to the doctor three times over the span of her first cold just because I was so nervous that my tiny baby was "broken." With my THIRD, I hardly bat an eye when the thermometer reads 104. I just administer some Tylenol (even though the back of the box says to consult a physician first) and see if the fever goes down before I head out to the emergency room (and it almost always does!). Don't get me wrong, I go to the doctor so often that I probably should just set up a standing weekly appointment. I just try to spare myself the drama and agony of worrying over every little sniffle (and all the unnecessary co-pays!).

With my FIRST baby, I made sure that Chloe slept on her back during even the shortest nap (I remember flipping her over once when she turned over on her own, waking her up in the process). Additionally, I allotted "tummy time" each day so that she could develop properly and hit her milestones on time. With my THIRD baby, I actually let her (gasp!) sleep on her tummy because she stayed asleep four times as long in that position (and let's face it, we ALL needed her to sleep). And tummy time? I never once purposely did it. But do you know what? Sadie ended up being my earliest crawler (at 5 months! Nothing like two big sisters to inspire a baby to move!).

With my FIRST baby, I poured over child development books and read all the debates about which theory worked the best (and, I admit it, looked down my nose at people who used less "enlightened" methods than my own attachment style parenting). With my THIRD baby, I didn't have time to read the back of a cereal box during the first year much less get through another CD book (although I did valiantly try to scan the packet the pediatrician gave me at each well baby visit). And you know what? I respect EVERY MOTHER out there and cheer them on when they find something that works well for their child and lifestyle.

With my FIRST baby, I started reading to her pretty much from conception. I forced books on her and made her sit and read with me for an allotted amount of time each day. Does she ever pick up a book on her own now? Nope. With my THIRD baby, I was so busy trying to keep everyone from killing themselves or each other that I was a total bum about reading time. And guess who loves books the most? That's right, Sadie! She can entertain herself for ages by flipping through books. She also regularly brings some to me to read to her. I totally lucked out that she managed to overcome my negligence.

With my FIRST baby, I sat around and dreamed about her future. What would the first day of school be like? What will prom dress shopping entail? What college will she attend? With my THIRD baby, I find myself making mental pictures of the tender moments (the way she tucks her head into my neck or the giggle and wave she gives me when I come in to say good morning) and desperately trying to soak in each remnant of her "baby-ness" (the dimples that stand in for knuckles or the sweet, lopsided smile with only a few teeth) because I know they will be gone before I'm prepared to have her be a big girl. The first day of school is constantly getting closer and will be here in a blink (and most certainly before I'm ready for it).

What does all this mean? Am I a better parent now than I was then? I'm not sure. I'd like to think I am more relaxed about the things that just aren't that important. I hope that I am more attuned to what each little personality needs from me instead of thinking there is one right way to parent a child. But the ratio of children to mommies just gets worse and more mistakes seem to happen. I guess I just have to make peace with reality and the ideal in my head (and try to ignore all the GUILT that's not very helpful but seems to come along for the ride when the little embryo hops on board my life.). To paraphrase my favorite Rolling Stones song, I know I can't give them everything I want (tons of one-on-one time, private educations, or even a consistently clean kitchen floor to name just a few), but if I try (really hard, all the time, with lots of prayers mixed in), they'll (fingers crossed!) get what they need.