Pretending she's backsliding

We've been warned that older siblings are likely to backslide on potty training and resent the new baby, but so far Z's reactions, all of which have happened as we cuddle before bed, have been all talk...and remarkably inconsistent.

Z: Who did we give my diapers to?
Me: Mari and Leo.
Z: And Vi-Vi too?
Me: I guess so.
Z: I want them back. Let's get my diapers back.
Me: But you're potty trained. And you're going to go to school. Besides, I'm sure they've been used by now.
Z: I don't want to be potty trained and go to school. Let's ask Daddy to buy me some diapers at the store.
Me: I don't think so.
Z: I need to go pee-pee. In the potty.


Z: I don't want a baby sister anymore.
Me: Baby A is here to stay. We love both our girls.
Z: I don't want her to be here.
Me: What do you want her to go?
Z: I want to throw her away.
Me: But just minutes ago you were giving her hugs and kisses.
Z: Let's go give her night-night kisses!

Gasp, BlogHer's almost here!

The world's coolest female bloggers are descending on my fair city for the BlogHer conference tomorrow, and honestly I'm a little bit panicked. It's intimidating enough to see my favorite bloggers in the flesh and potentially talk to women I've only communicated with via comments sections and email, but socializing and attending panel discussions just one week after giving birth? It feels crazy.

Baby A is a boobaholic and we've given the old Over the Shoulder Baby Holder a dry run, but neither of us has that cool nursing on the go know-how that comes when the kid can latch on by herself and--I don't know--hold up her own head! I'm afraid all anyone will remember of me from BlogHer is my nipples. Plus, do I bring a stroller? It seems like too much bulk, but I'm afraid I'm going to look like a bag lady if I try to juggle an infant, a sling, a diaper bag full of clothing changes and try to collect business cards, product samples and tchotckes. (There will be samples and tchotckes, right? It is a conference after all.)

But before the conference gets going, I get to have dinner with my fellow Chicago Moms Bloggers as well as many of the contributors to the Silicon Valley Moms Blog. I'm sure I'll look really cool and put together what with my poochy postpartum tummy and enormous, leaky breasts. What am I wearing? Whatever fits and camouflages spit-up.

Not our one and only for long

Dear Z,

You're going to be a big sister soon. You know that, at least on some level. But do you know how much your baby sister is going to rock your world? I know you'll love hugging and kissing her, helping with the baths and the diapers and examining all her tiny little features. You'll want to show her off to your friends and ride together in our new double stroller.

What you won't want to do is share Mommy. I see the green flash in your eyes when I've got another child in my arms or on my lap. You've started pretending to be a baby and you even asked yesterday, "Is it okay if I say I don't want a baby sister?"

You're going to get extra special Daddy time (over and above what he already dedicates to you), and I fear you're not going to relish it. Instead, I worry my heart will be wrenched in two. I'll have your younger sister attached to the boob while you scream "Mommy do it!" as Daddy or Nanny run the bath/cut your food/take you to the park.

But you'll adjust, and it will ultimately be good for you. Having a sibling is a lifelong exercise in learning to share. Take it one big sister to another: your little sister will steal Mommy's attention. She'll steal your toys. Your diary. And your friends. Sometimes she'll be your worst enemy. But more often she'll be your best friend. Your built-in playmate. Someone who admires you (but will never admit it).

So remember to think of all that stealing as sharing. Because chances are you'll be sharing your lives together long after your parents leave the picture.