When we had our second baby, I secretly feared we'd made a terrible mistake. My older son had just entered the notorious Twos. The new baby demanded constant attention and required maddeningly little sleep. I'd wanted my children close in age so they would be friends, but I often doubted we would survive to see that day.As the months passed, I anxiously awaited any sign of sibling bonding, but for the most part my older son regarded his baby brother with nothing more than curiosity, boredom, some jealousy, and occasional disdain. I'd envisioned the second baby bringing us into balance as a family, and imagined all the wonderful things my two sons would experience together. What I got was extreme sleep deprivation, resentment, and excessive guilt, as I struggled to meet everyones needs and to remember why this had once seemed like such a good idea.
But I've learned to appreciate life as a mother of two and the chaos that naturally follows. You have to be more observant -- the joyful moments are usually brief, unexpected, and tucked obscurely within everyday life, but invariably they are off-the-charts adorable. One minute I'll be thinking that my children are aliens bent on the destruction of mankind and all I want is to beam them back to their mother ship. Then suddenly they'll trot down the hall with their arms around each other, singing and laughing together, and I marvel at the magic of their interactions.
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