My first son was a handful. He had enough energy for his whole family. Drove us absolutely insane.
Not that he was constantly a lunatic or anything. I mean we had plenty of fun and relaxed times together. But you know the way the bad often feels more intense than the good.
The crappy times always seem to make a bigger impact on you and how you remember things. My son was (and still is) a total sweetheart. He has completely wound down in the last few months. He’s a five-year-old kind, loving and caring boy.
When I was pregnant with my second, we figured ‘it will be easier this time’. There is no way in hell that baby number two would be more work. He couldn’t possibly be more energetic than his older brother was. Oh how wrong we were! He’s two years old now and he isn’t a lunatic like his big brother was. No, no. He is a full-on maniac! There is no stopping him. Stair gates are completely superfluous. He will climb over anything. Like his cot. He recently discovered that it’s all a matter of perspective; while most children view the bars of their cot as a miniature prison, mine decided to view them as an opportunity. A means of busting out of here. Thinking outside the box.
I had him sleep trained from around 10 months and since then he has always slept brilliantly. Once he got a little bit older he even started bringing himself to bed. Motioning to the stairs, pointing to his bedroom. He loved sleep. He loved his cot. He loved his room. Until recently.
I could hear him from downstairs. The struggling grunts of his escape. The thud on the floor. The determined attempts to open the bedroom door. I’d run upstairs and find him wandering around with Bunny in one hand. Standing there watching him before he realises that I’m there, he turns around, a shocked look on his face (busted!!) and he gingerly offers a ‘Hi’.
After a few trips, he decided Mum and Dad’s room is boring. All the toys are in big brother’s room. (Well, Mum and Dad’s toys are just hidden really well). At one stage I heard big brother bawling crying while half asleep. I ran up only to find baby brother sitting on the bed with him. He had apparently whacked his older brother over the head with a dinosaur. I brought him back to his cot, frustrated that there was nothing I could really do right now to actually stop him. We just had to persevere, see who would last the longest.
Moments later big brother was bawling crying again. I ran up and found baby brother standing by the side of the bed, facing big brother who, at this stage, had his hands out in defense, protecting his face. Only he had an even bigger dinosaur this time (the Giganotosaurus, to be specific), held in two hands, behind his head, ready to throw! ‘Riley!’ I yell, to which he responds only by aiming his attention at me followed by his insanely evil laugh.
Is your second a bigger handful than your first? Let us know on Twitter @HerFamlydotie.
Aisling is an Irish mother of two boys (age two and five) currently living in the Netherlands. She loves to write about what life throws your way, as a mother, as a sister, as a woman, documenting it all on her website The House of Bash. Aisling is also a Style Contributor for The LB Brand based in Philadelphia and a creative writer for fashion and motherhood websites as well as a translator/transcreator. Catch up with her on her blog or Instagram.
