When Two Under Two Get Sick

Caring for two under two at the same time is like any other challenge. It’s hard at first, and seems overwhelming. But then, you get used to a routine: Make food for toddler while baby is sleeping (or toddler is at daycare), turn on Berenstain Bears for toddler so he doesn’t freak out while you nurse the baby, etc. Got it.

Or so I thought.

Image

Just when I thought I had this “two under two” lifestyle down, Nathan threw a wrench in it. Last Tuesday, poor dude was cranky when I brought him home. He didn’t take to me having a guest, and he fussed as I put him in his high chair. Typical toddler, I thought. Two seconds later I picked up baby Logan to nurse him. Dinner for all!

About a minute after I attached Logan to my breast, what looked like a scene in “Alien” transpired: Nathan projectile puked creamy chunks of milky stuff speckled with bits of grape (sorry to get so graphic, foodies!). The high chair was a mess, Nathan was a mess. And as he stared at his puke-covered clothes and chair in disbelief, I knew I had to act quickly! I yanked the baby off the boob, put him in the car seat, ran to the linen closet to grab a towel, and then yanked Nathan out of his high chair. I stripped him down, dried him off, and shuttled him upstairs for a bath.

The timing couldn’t be worse: We had a plumber coming an hour later to fix our shower. I had a baby I left downstairs. Nathan was inconsolable. I said a quick prayer and took him downstairs. Gave him a sippy cup of milk and a veggie pouch (a mistake), and thought the night would only get better.

If only.

Ten minutes later in the living room, a diaper clad Nathan puked again on our rug (thank god it’s not an expensive one), and declared “uh-oh” as he continued to spit up. I called Zack to come home so he could help. There was no way I could care for a sick little dude and properly tend to my baby.

Logan is less than two months old, so while I got up every two hours to nurse him, Zack and I also had to periodically get up to change Nathan’s sheets and toss them in the laundry (either from puke or diarrhea), comfort Nathan, and try to get him to go back to sleep. The next day we were whipped.

I don’t have any tips on how to make dealing with such a scenario easier in the future. What I can say is that I never knew I was capable of handling two sick under-twos until I had to. It’s amazing what we’re capable of when we have no other choice.

The Growing Differences Between How my Child-free Friends and Friends with Kids Think

Last May, about a month before I got knocked up with baby #2, I tried on the most stunning, black-and-floral-print, jaw-dropping Parker dress at Apricot Lane, a super-cute boutique in Fairfield, Conn., where I live. It was a lovely, sunny Sunday, and my dear husband had taken our baby son, Nathan, to his grandparents’ house, so I could have a few hours to myself.

When I saw my reflection in the mirror, I was stunned at how great I still looked, at 37, in a designer dress. It was a real confidence boost to a mom, let me tell you. Then I saw the price tag: $235!!!

Now, it’s not that I don’t have enough money to afford a $235 designer dress. I do. But with Nathan in daycare, and plans to buy a home on the horizon, I knew it had to be a truly special dress to drop that kind of cash spontaneously.

So I called my fashion-forward friend A. to ask her what I should do: Should I fork over the money and splurge on the dress? Should I pass?

“I’d wait, look around a bit, see what else you can find,” said A.

Fair enough. After all, A. always gives me great advice. Unfortunately, I forgot to take into account that she is child-free, and therefore, by default, experiences the world a bit differently than I do.

Long story short, I took her advice because it seemed like the “smart” thing to do — I figured later that week I’d find another great dress when I stopped by the mall during my downtime. But two hours of downtime and a trip to the mall never came. And then it was mid June. I desperately trolled the Internet, but the dress was sold out online. The one I had put on hold at Apricot Lane was long gone, too.

Almost a year later, and I’m still thinking about that dress — the Parker Lily dress.

When I recalled the experience, months later, to my friend Karina, who has a son, her response made me seethe even more for listening to my child-free friend: “Oh my god, you should have bought the dress,” she said. “Who has time to go shopping? You have a kid!”

The experience did, however, enlighten me to the reality that there’s a growing gap between how my friends with kids and my friends without kids think about everything.

Take sleep.

Shortly after the dress incident, I headed south for a planned girls getaway with two of my besties and another girl pal. The night before, me and bestie #1 got about four hours of sleep each — me because of the anxiety and insomnia over leaving my then-11-month-old for a beach jaunt, and her because of my uncomfortable air mattress.

En route to Dewey Beach, Bestie #1 marveled at my ability to pump breast milk while driving, and when we arrived at the beach, it was rainy so we decided to get pedicures. That’s when she hit a wall. “I have to take a nap!” she lamented. The mood had changed so quickly, and she was cranky. I pondered this in disbelief: Was she really that exhausted over four hours of sleep for one night? Did people between the ages of 16 and 50 get exhausted over one bad night?

The answer, apparently, is yes.

But as any parent knows, when you have a kid you learn to bank sleep: a good night is four straight hours, interrupted once, followed by two hours, which gives you about six total. A bad night is two hours, or half-hour sleep segments spaced out by infant grunting. Parents learn to survive at 50 percent sleep capacity — or four hours a night total (including interruptions) — for weeks on end.

Child-free friends of mine don’t understand these bootcamp-like conditions, so they convince themselves they “need” sleep because they are used to a high level of sleep (it’s similar to how those of us who grew up in the middle-class suburbs “needed” new clothes every few months).

It’s not that I fault my bestie for needing so much sleep, or for taking care of herself. I did the same thing before I got pregnant with my first son. But when you have a baby, your views on sleep change from that point forward: Sleep is a beautiful thing; it’s great when you can get it but if you can’t, you won’t die.

Here is how those of us with kids “think” in various situations (versus those of us without them):

#1: 10 p.m. on a Tuesday

Friends with Children: Bedtime!

Child-free friends: “Just finished dinner after a grueling spin session at the gym. Time to catch up on missed shows. Where’s the remote?”

#2: 10 p.m. on a Friday

Friends with Children: “Where’s the remote? Honey, can you pour me some wine?”

Child-free friends: “I’ll meet you at the bar after dinner. The band goes on at 11 — let’s try to get a spot up front.”

#3: Working out at 6 a.m. 

Friends with Children: “Not happening until he sleeps through the night.”

Child-free friends: (Posts to Facebook): “So proud of myself for waking up at the crack of dawn to get in a spin class. Yay to me!”

#4: Trip from D.C. to New York/NY to D.C.

Friends with Children: “Did I pump enough milk for Saturday and Sunday morning if the train gets stuck?”

Child-free friends: “Maybe I will go shopping when I get to the city. Or have brunch.”

#5: Going out with the girls

Friends with Children: “Holy moly, this night better be awesome now that I forked over $150 for a babysitter, bought new makeup/got my hair done because I won’t have another night like this for six months!”

Child-free friends: “I wonder what club we should go to when Marisa gets to town? Do we have to go out at all? I go out all the time. I kind of want a night in.”

Other thoughts?