“I’ll be right back, I just need to change the baby’s diaper.”
I head out of the kitchen and take Little L to C’s bedroom. I place her on the changing table and open her pajamas. She instantly starts to wail, offended that I would ever dare expose so much of her skin to the cold air. With the noise of her caterwauling I don’t hear C follow me into the room until I hear a huge crash and another howl from behind me.
Little L’s tush is still bare, the diaper clutched in my hand. C is on the floor screaming next to the fan she took down with her when she fell. I look from one child to the other, torn; what do I do? Who do I tend to first?
I glance at Little L and decide that she’ll be fine for a minute, C rarely cries when she falls, if she’s screaming she’s probably hurt. I turn my back on the baby and hurry over to comfort my first born. I’m still not allowed to pick her up so I crouch next to her and gather her in my arms. I ask her where she’s hurt and kiss her boo boo. Little L is still screaming on the changing table.
In the middle of all the cacophony M walks into the room, clearly wondering how we escalated to Defcon 5 in the three seconds we were away from him. He walked over and took over the diapering of the infant while I cuddled C an at that moment I realized that the stakes have changed; we’re a family of four, and from now on there are going to be many moments that require either both parents, or a lot more patience from everyone.
Tomorrow night M is going out to an event that was planned a long time ago. I could have gotten a sitter to come help me, but I’m going to try to tough it out. Either M will come home to find us all crying on the couch or I’ll rise to the occasion and prove to myself that I can parent two kids. Tune in tomorrow for an update!