And then there were two. Well four between us. No make that five!

We’re back! Refreshed and ready to go. Well, kind of still a bit sleep deprived and distracted, but less so and relatively speaking. I’m at the highest point of my game possible for the foreseeable future. I’m past the dreaded first three months of the second baby so I’m back on easy street – as easy as they get in the suburb of Two Kids (under two) on The Block. New baby is, by the way, completely objectively, very beautiful.

Kate on the other hand is about to pass through the choppy waters of another newborn. In case you missed it she and Captain Sensible have number three on the way. I haven’t told Kate yet but when a mother of three saw another mother of two cooing over my baby at the playground the other day, she warned ominously that a third was a whole other ball game. Two was difficult. Three was utter chaos. On the upside, after that, they say it can’t get any more difficult. Three, ten, all the same . We’ll see – Kate will be telling us all about it. In the meantime, I can report that for me two is on the one hand, not double the trouble, but not filled with many moments that permit you to gaze lovingly and tranquilly on the children that are your joyous good fortune to have.

I gather I am not going too badly as the other day a friend watched me moving between rocking the crying baby in the pram and picking up the, not-quite,-two year-old demanding to be picked up, followed, fed and a few things in between, remarking that she couldn’t possibly deal with this type of situation, and marveled at my patience. Patience? I had to look around to see who she was referring to. It turned out that it was in fact directed at me. Me, patient. It’s a little like calling Colonel Gaddafi pragmatic. Before I take a bow or give myself a big slap on the back, I have to confess that patience at this level has only been achieved due to the extreme tests on my fragile patience in coping with other daily events. The baby crying incessantly, especially when the reason is a total mystery, still sends me in to a teeth grinding state of frustration and two babies crying at once – which takes place at least once every three hours for 15 minutes a session – causes veins at my temple to swell and my foot to search for objects of lower financial value to kick as hard as the mitigation of self-inflicted pain will allow. And I think I have it pretty easy.  The new baby, now three months, is actually very well behaved and on the happy end of the scale of difficult to manage.

I have stopped hoping for one of those angelic babies that just sleeps and eats for three months but compared to the first child, the latest addition is an absolute angel. And I am very grateful that “the difficult one” came first. I’ve realised that if you have to have one difficult baby, it’s much better that it’s the first one,when you don’t have an older demanding sibling at the same time. Number two is paying for her calm temperament by being frequently left to cry or entertain herself while I deal with the dictatorial prince that is her older brother. He who shouts loudest wins. There are also a notably smaller number of photographs already. So everything you suspected about your parents giving your elder sibling more attention is true. Well at least until you arrived. After that, even the eldest‘s slice of the attention pie diminishes.

We look forward to again relating to you our trials and tribulations through the milestones and stages we’re about to encounter. Thanks to everyone for your encouragement in returning to the blog. We hope too to find some time to do some non-mother related things so that we can share places and experiences that hopefully you might have the chance to enjoy on your next trip to The Continent. It’s good to be back. Speak to you all soon.

Jac and Kate

photo credit: Ducklover Bonnie