DSP-7DSP-11 Many years ago, when I imagined parenting, and becoming a mom, I always thought I would have two children.  One penis person…..one non-penis person.  But the best way to see how funny life can be is to make a plan and then watch life pummel your plan senseless.  And so I earned myself two lil penis people.  (Yes, they ARE wearing matching outfits…..courtesy of my baby sister who understands my odd habits and feeds RIGHT in to them).


To be certain, there is a very distinct difference in the way your parent a first-born child and a second born child.  And….I hear it gets MORE and MORE relaxed with each subsequent child.  A girlfriend of mine once remarked that BY BABY NUMBER FOUR, she would have been willing to let the mailman baby sit for a few moments just so she could take a shit uninterrupted.


PREGNANCY WITH 1ST BORN : I googled EVERYTHING!  If I burped and it tasted funny, yep….I googled that shit.  I followed EVERY LAST PIECE of perfect mom-to-be advice.  I read any “what to expect” book I could get my hands on.  I went to the damn lamaze class, for goodness sake.  I absorbed any and all information that was available…..and then purposely went looking for even more.

PREGNANCY WITH 2ND BORN : I googled only the REALLY important shit.  I learned that most of the advice you get from “professional moms” is generally regurgitated bullshit and you needed to do what works for YOU personally.  “What to expect” books???  Not a chance.   And I didn’t set foot in NOT ONE lamaze class.  Fuck that noise….I already knew how to breathe…..Thanks SO much!

LIFE WITH A NEW 1ST BORN : I knew that I was SUPPOSED to get some much-needed rest while he was sleeping…..but who the hell can sleep when your busy watching your newborns chest rise up and down????  If he so much as WIMPERED, I was instantly at his side trying a gazillion different things to determine what was wrong……too hot????  too cold????  Hungry???  Diaper issues???  Damn it…..there’s something wrong, I just KNOW IT……maybe I should call the pediatrician.

LIFE WITH A NEW 2ND BORN : I knew by then that sleep CANNOT wait.  What’s worse??  Napping while your infant is safe and sound in one of the 20 different contraptions you have cluttering your home designed SPECIFICALLY to keep his lil ass safe?  Or dropping said infant because you fell asleep standing up while holding him?   And when the wee penis person chirped and squawked in my general direction…I waved a pleasant hello to him (sometimes, if I was really tired, I flipped him off)….blew him a momma smoochie from afar…..and left his ass alone for a few seconds to see if he REALLY DESPERATELY needed my attention…..otherwise, I knew he was JUST FUCKING FINE!

PHOTOS OF FIRST BORN : I quickly covered every available surface of my home with the sweet lil face of the first-born penis person.  I snapped photos of him sleeping……of him about to fall asleep…….of him sleeping some more……of him TRYING to fall asleep if only his wonderful mommy would stop interrupting him with the flash of the camera and the incessant repositioning.  I did the whole “take PROFESSIONAL pictures of the tot at each three-month interval….birth….three months….six months…..nine months…..one year”.  $200 bucks a pop.   Sears photos studio LOVED me……I’m nearly certain they can smell a new mom a thousand yards out (ok, maybe they CAN sense the smell of baby spit up).  They would send me frequent reminders to keep updating my penis person’s photos and they addressed me personally as if we were best friends.  When their stock dropped unexpectedly in my son’s second year, I felt personally responsible.   I not only felt compelled to relive each nano-second of his brand-new life, I wanted to SHARE that same joy with all of my extended family.  I mailed photos of the young penis person to my mother and SIL weekly.  I’m nearly certain one, or quite possibly BOTH, of them had to send me a cease and desist order.  They were quickly running out of room for all those pictures and were nearing the point of needing to build an additional room to house them all.  The lil penis person had NOT ONE…..but THREE baby books.  One baby book was SIMPLY NOT ENOUGH room to store all the information about how amazing/brilliant/adorable this child was.

PHOTOS OF SECOND BORN : The wee penis person is lucky to have even the briefest of photographic recollection of his early years.  The problem is, most of the pictures live somewhere in my computer.  They may never find their way out.  While I sucked ass at TAKING pictures of this particular child, I sucked even bigger ass at printing any of those few precious photos.  Which is precisely why the wee penis person’s baby book has nearly ZERO photos…..and even LESS information contained within it.  If I’m lucky, I can peruse FB one day and, using my old status updates, try to pinpoint when he spoke his first word…….grew his first tooth…..flipped me off for the first time because I was a shitty, uncaring mother who wrote funny quips on Facebook daily but didn’t bother to write more than a few words in his picture-less baby book.

DIRT and the FIRSTBORN : I was paranoid of anything filthy entering the same hemisphere as my precious first-born.  As soon as folks walked through the door to visit, I ushered them to the sink and personally supervised them to ensure they scrubbed their hands properly before allowing them to even glance in my son’s direction.  As he got older, my propensity for keeping him free of dirt grew.  He began to mimic my reaction to dirt and being dirty.  HE HATED IT AS MUCH AS I DID….which is kinda guaranteeing him endless ass kicking and teasing as a penis person.  My MIL and SIL, knowing my fear of a dirty child, bought my son a sandbox.  Yes, I was kind enough to put it up and let them fill it with sand.  The penis person was apprehensive but, with much coaxing from them, soon began to relax.  I DID NOT.  After about three days of sand-soiled clothing and ears and hair that needed immediate scrubbing, THE ODDEST THING happened………a freak wind storm came along and whisked all of that glorious sand away, leaving nothing but an empty sand box that we could fill with wonderful, CLEAN water and use as a baby pool.

DIRT and the SECOND BORN : I gave up giving a shit if people washed their hands before handling my tots.  Now, when a person comes to visit, the first thing I do is quickly hand off the kid so that I can enjoy a few blissful moments of empty arms.  The wee penis person LOVES DIRT.  Can’t get enough of it…..and he has this odd propensity for putting THE most disgusting items in his mouth.  The food on the ground that he just popped in his mouth , that morsel covered in ants lying on a patio covered in mud ……NOT EVEN THE GROSSEST THING HE’S EATEN THIS WEEK.  And I’m cool with it……I figure he’ll have a super strong immune system before he reaches Kindergarten.

FIRSTBORN BIRTHDAY PARTIES :  We had a hall party for my firstborn’s FIRST BIRTHDAY.   And since I suspected he might not remember it, I video taped every last second of the four-hour gala.  We invited EVERY person we knew.  The present table struggled under the weight of the mountain o’presents.  We catered the food.  I stopped just short of hiring a professional photographer (Sears doesn’t do on site photo shoots).  The subsequent years got slightly more elaborate.  Year two we did Elmo to entertain he and his two-year old friends.  Year three was a party bus (ok, it was tumble bus…..a KIDS party bus, but a party bus none the less).  The Dick was convinced that at the rate we were going, he would definitely secure a spot on “My Super Sweet Sixteen Party”.  EVERY year I did it bigger….invited MORE people (one of his last big bash’s was nearly 100 people)…..dropped bigger wads of cash!  I couldn’t help myself!

SECONDBORN BIRTHDAY PARTIES : First of all, since my penis peoples’ birthdays are only 8 measly days apart, I now combine them into ONE party.  And that ONE party is pitiful compared to what we used to do.  I swear, wee penis person is going to look back at the photos of his big brother’s SA-WEEEEEEET parties and feel REALLY unloved.


The fact of the matter is…..I raised these two little penis people very differently.  It’s undeniable that there is an inherent difference in the way they will view their childhoods.  One will see all the cool shit he got to do as an “first and only”.  The other will, quite possibly, use this as a reason to explain why he needs intense therapy.  I’m starting to save for that now……I guess its the very least I can do!