I'm not saying that these two kids are polar opposites; both have been quick to smile, alert as all get out, cuddle monsters, etc. but I was once again struck by how truly different these two have been as infants.
This morning I took Laithe for a weight check (he's not maintaining his growth percentile. it remains to be seen if this is any kind of big deal at all) at the doctor's office. He was snug asleep in my sling - which is kind of where he always is - and I felt mildly guilty interrupting what I know is his prime nap time (sister is at preschool) to get him naked and onto a cold scale. I pulled him out of the sling, stripped him down while holding him and gave him to the nurse to put on the scale. She put him down and took a little time to weigh him and while he was clearly irritated about being naked and cold he didn't actually ever cry. He made angry faces and kind of yelled at the nurse, but that was it. Even when I had to lay him down to get him dressed again there were no tears. And on the way out he smiled at everyone who got within his line of sight. And at the end of it I wasn't even sweating.
I know several of you are all, yeah, so? what's the big deal? Sierra I know you're with me on this one.
Guthrie still won't get weighed without tears. Trying to get her height - or heaven forbid her temperature is - such a battle that half the time the nurse and I agree she's tall enough and clearly doesn't have a fever. So take an angry, tantrumy preschooler shrink her down to about 15 pounds and multiply her angst by about 10,000. And then try to weigh her. I hated taking her to the doctor. I still hate taking her to the doctor. It makes me sweaty.
The nurse knows all of us pretty well and I commented that if Laithe had been Guthrie she would have just been screaming through the whole event and for the rest of the afternoon and we still wouldn't have an accurate weight. She heartily agreed.
Is it just temperament? Is it that she was my first and he was my second? We're not actively raising them any differently.
I love Guthrie. Love her to absolute bits and I wouldn't trade any of her passion for anything in the world. I love that she so wholly is herself and I even love how sensitive she is, although I need to start watching my tone with her because I feel like I can just crush her soul with one firm word. Except I'm so over this dramatic tears about everything stage. So. Over. It. In general though I cannot wait to see how her sensitivity translates in adulthood. I'm certain she's bound for heartbreak and joy given how intensely she seems to feel everything. She is just so intense.
I also love that she is my firstborn. That I got to experience all that intensity and realize that some babies just can't be on a schedule, that some kids just scream because they need to scream and all you can do is hold them through it, that some kids tell you 40 times a day that they love you 'so much' because, well, I assume she just can't hold it in. That Guthrie somehow taught me to just relax and try to go with the flow- which is such a struggle for me. Somehow figuring out how to be a mother to her set me up to be a mother to him. Does that make sense?
But it's allowed me to enjoy this baby so much. To just appreciate every minute of this for what it is. To love that I don't even know how long Laithe sleeps at a stretch because I learned not to look at the clock in the middle of the night because, really, how helpful is it? Laithe just isn't as intense. He woke me up this morning by rooting around trying to find some food on my back. He was insistent, but I think it would have been awhile before he would have panicked. I think he's going to take some time to get to know. I think he might be a jolly baby in a few months. I also think he might be like his mom and content to sit and watch the world. No one can make him laugh like his sister and I cannot wait to see how their relationship is. I love him so much.
Them so much.