Four months ago, I had a baby boy that my husband and I named Samuel. Knowing that he would be the last baby, I made a conscious effort to savor my pregnancy and try to appreciate all the things associated with having a newborn in the house again.

I had visions of him and our older son being life-long friends. I had delusions of family outings and family breakfasts and restful nights, content in the fact I had a happy, healthy, beautiful family.

Even though I’m not a first time mom, there were things I just completely forgot about. The things they don’t tell you about … Really, I should have known better.

“Put your baby in a crib!”

This is top of the list. Your baby must sleep alone, in his own crib, upon a tightly fitted crib sheet with no blankets, stuffed animals, toys, etc. … Or he will die of SIDS.

Good gracious.

OK, I get it. “Safety first” and all that jazz …

What they don’t tell you? Oh yeah, babies freaking hate cribs. After being all snugly in the womb for 10 months — not one word! Pregnancy is 40 weeks, that’s 10 months, not nine — laying flat on a firm mattress is about the last thing in the world they have any intention of doing.

How did I forget this? I don’t know. Probably because I never knew it before. With our first son, Benjamin, we were lucky. Ben slept through the night almost from day one. Sam? Not so much …

Which brings me to my second point of contention: sibling rivalry.

Ben will be 4 in January and I honestly thought he would be old enough to appreciate that, by me having another little boy, I was in effect creating a playmate for life.

Nope.

Now that the initial “newness” of Sam has worn off, Ben wants very little to do with him — except of course when he’s mocking, ridiculing or flat out ordering him around.

To see your 3-year-old “shush” your 4-month-old for daring to make noise during “Paw Patrol” is really funny. Especially when said 3-year-old is anything but quiet. Ever.

Seriously, we have earplugs.

I’ve also witnessed a certain regression with Ben. He whines more, wants his milk in a bottle and suddenly insists being held “cradle-style,” which is really hard given that he weighs, like, 40 pounds.

Sam is a very different baby than Ben was. I suppose that’s to be expected but honestly, it kind of took me by surprise. While Ben was content to be in his swing, or on a blanket on the floor, Sam prefers — no, “demands” is the better word — to be held.

You set that kid down and he screams like you’re applying thumb-screws. Pick him up, the screaming immediately stops and he’s all smiles and coos. I have since typed many an article one handed whilst bouncing him in my lap. All subsequent typos may be blamed on the baby …

Another thing that I completely forgot about was the amount of bodily fluids that are regularly projectiled from infants. You gotta be quick when changing a diaper, or your bed spread can be “fire-hosed” faster than what you would think.

My husband wasn’t quite fast enough and got hit in the face last week. “Oh my God, that hasn’t happened since college!” he yelled.

I didn’t ask …

My washing machine was the most recent casualty, dying after valiantly attempting to “spin out” our queen-sized comforter after a failed diaper change.

You will be missed.

As to all other aspects, the Strickland household is finally finding some sort of balance in the grand scheme of toddlers and infants. And when it all seems too much, when my husband comes at me with arms raised in total defeat, I always tell him the same thing: it could have been worse.

It could have been twins.

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Strickly Speaking

Kasie Strickland

Kasie Strickland is a staff writer for The Easley Progress, The Pickens Sentinel and Powdersville Post and can be reached at kstrickland@civitasmedia.com. Views expressed in this column are those of the writer only and do not represent the newspaper’s opinion.