A Rant… (that I'm definitely NOT sorry for, so take THAT other moms)

Okay, I have a thing.  Okay, really, I have many things, but one of them is turning out to be a big deal -- especially as I've noticed it is a thing that separates me from many other parents.  AND I'm realizing I need to be more specific because I'm not talking about all parents -- I'm talking about moms.  In all their bat-sh*t craziness and hormonal glory (myself among them, admittedly), all the moms in all the world are driving me insane with their requirements for little-kid apologies.  Holy crap, people, let it go - the children are children!

Today, I saw this about the "good" way to demand an apology from your child and thought back to forever ago when I read this about how a "good" way doesn't actually exist because forcing a child to apologize doesn't teach any of the things we want our children to learn from conflict.  I had to stop to think through my simple answers to the question, What do we want our children to learn from conflict?

When my four-year-old experiences conflict (she does from time to time, I know - shocking, right?), I have to remind myself of my goals:
I want my daughter...
-to recognize when she's broken a social norm (e.g. hurting someone's feelings)
-to recognize when some else has broken a social norm (e.g. having your own feelings hurt)
-to respond/act in a calm and non-defensive manner
-to move past conflict easily
-to be able to take in another's viewpoint
-to have an expectation of positive outcomes when addressing conflict

Telling her (on what would be, of course, my timeline, as is usually the case with parent-prompted apologies) to stand in front of the person she's "wronged" and say, "I'm sorry for (blah, blah, blahing).  That was wrong because (x, y, and, especially, z).  Next time I will (do something that will not result in you feeling icky).  Will you (and here's the best part) forgive me?" is dialogue that will absolutely NOT happen on my watch.  Why? you ask...
Here are the good parts --
YES, she's acknowledging her own behavior (the blah, blah part)
YES, she's taking on the other person's viewpoint (the x-y-z part)
YES, she's making a plan to move past the conflict (no more ickiness - that's good)
I have no issues with these things, they're great!
HOWEVER, holy-crapload-of-crappy-crap, "will you forgive me?" That's nonsensical for a preschooler to ask OR answer.  Will you forgive me?  Think about all the things a preschooler does in a day that could prompt a parent-apology requirement: yells, takes things, runs away, says something grumpy to a younger (probably even grumpier) sibling… and the possibility of forgiveness has to be asked?  In the life of a four-year-old in our house, that is a given.  You will always be forgiven because, guess what, you're still figuring life out.  It is your job to try on different attitudes and actions.  In all of your sweet, sweet, ignorance, you're still putting research behind your latest hypothesis: "If I take that toy from my sister when mom's out of the room, then I'll get to keep that toy, because her screams can't be heard if mom's out of sight!" I am thinking, good job, little scientist, for taking that data, because now you know, I CAN hear the yelling, I WILL mitigate, AND your sister just put data behind her latest prediction: "If I scream once mom leaves, then she'll assume my sister did something wrong and give me some attention!" (Notice, it's really a lose-lose for you, mom, because you'll never know what really happened!  Just take a deep breath and eat the chocolate you've hidden on top of the fridge.)  I will not be teaching my child at four years old that the people she's surrounded by might not forgive her for testing out her ideas.

If mom is always around to tell you to apologize when you've made a mistake, you're learning that an apology is a script, not an action.  You're learning that an apology is something you have to do, not something you'll feel relieved by doing.  You're learning that you must say something immediately.  Real life isn't like that.  As adults, we get heated, we take a break, we wrestle with conflict and vent about it.  Ultimately, we take complicated feelings and we boil them down into what is either an apology, clarification, or something else entirely.  Sometimes I'll revisit conflict with a peer or colleague to find that they're not ready to move forward yet.  That is okay.  It is not even a fleeting thought that this is about forgiveness for what transpired.  Why would I think that?  Conflict is never one-sided.  (And, just to be clear, I'm talking about conflict here, not things that are obviously one-sided like abuse.  I've been a victim of violent crime before - if that person had asked me to forgive him I would have said 'no' because there is no trust there.  I'm talking about conflict between people who know, trust, and care for each other in healthy ways like friends do/should.)  Suggesting that forgiveness needs to be requested and may or may not be given is such a strange idea to me.  Forgiveness is not for one person to distribute out to others depending on his/her judgement of apology sincerity.  Forgiveness is for each individual - it's your mind, it's your peace.  If I have not forgiven someone for something, that is in my head, not theirs.

I want my daughter to grapple with the feelings of confusion around her behaviors and the responses to them.  I want her to formulate ideas about what that confusion means.  Probably most importantly, I want to be there to guide that discussion with her when she's ready.  (Why did my friend cry when I did that?  Did I do something to make her feel like crying?)  When I think about my goals for my child and I consider the ways she can talk about conflict, I believe that she is building strong peer relationships, she's learning healthy social norms, and, guess what, most of the time, she comes up with an apology of action all on her own.  When she doesn't, she has valid points -- "I did x because of y.  I didn't know what else to do/I thought this other thing would happen/etc."  It's at this point that I make some suggestions about what might work out better next time.  That's the end, no apology needed, no questioning about whether or not her behavior will be forgiven.  She didn't know what to do and she tried something.  Suggesting that she request forgiveness for trying something out plants a seed that experimenting with social interactions at four years old is unacceptable, when, in fact, that is the very thing she should be doing.

So, mothers of the world, enough with the forced apologies (and really enough with asking other people's kids to apologize to yours - don't even get me started on that one).  I am fully aware that young children can comprehend the act of an apology and, even more, that participating in the social construct can contribute to others having a positive view of you and the conflict itself; however, I do not believe that asking to be forgiven, or believing that a mistake could warrant a friend to withdrawal from a friendship is developmentally appropriate peer talk, especially at age four. I believe we should teach the skill, sure, so it can be an option (and because if you don't, the other children will think you're gaining something when you make a poor choice), but please, mothers, focus on the learning part of conflict.  Make it a conversation (try Responsive Classroom), not a go-to move to save face at the park in front of all the other moms.

...and a year later...

It's amazing that my last post was Kalae's birth story!  Amazing and not-at-all surprising.

When I was expecting, I had so many grand visions about what life with two kids would be like.  I sit here now and I can't even remember the slightest bits of any of them because as soon as life with two kids actually happened, I stopped sleeping which ceased any rational thought and memory recall all together.  In the last year, I have only slept more than three consecutive hours a total of four times.  Four instances of a three-hour-plus block of time... I... the words... I have no words... all the words are gone...  Instead of sleep, I am running on baby giggles and midnight snuggles (and of course, tears and snot because being a mommy isn't complete without those, right?).

One day I will sleep again.  I will sleep and wake up after several REM cycles feeling rested and fulfilled and eager to start the day!  It will be amazing!  I might even finish a whole cup of coffee... now I'm just being greedy :)

Baby Kalae's Birth Story

Waking up throughout the night had become so routine due to pregnancy discomfort that I was confident I would be getting more sleep with a newborn.  Holding my newborn in my arms today confirms that prediction!  It was last Friday that I woke up at two in the morning for the third time that night, but this time was different.  I was sure I was going to go into labor any time; I was about two weeks early from my due date, but I had just cleaned the entire house and finished setting up the nursery and I just knew it would be any day.  Contractions were moderate and about five minutes apart and I was excited to finally have made it to labor day!  I had some severe nausea, too, which was different from Neila's labor, but I knew some women experienced that, so I wasn't too upset about it.  Then I realized it had been about three hours of me pacing in my living room with the same intensity contractions and still five minutes apart... This went on ALL. DAY. LONG.  I could not believe this wasn't the day.  What was going on with these contractions?!  Around five in the evening they subsided and I was relieved to go to bed and get some rest -- of course only to be equally as disappointed when I continued to wake up with contractions at two in the morning again!  This time Neila woke up, too, and was determined not to return to sleep without Daddy.  I realized around three in the morning, that actually THIS was the day! My initial reaction was Seriously, I am way too tired to have a baby today!  Of course, I was also way too tired to continue being pregnant, so I decided to see where these contractions would take us.  (As if I had a choice or something?!)

I told Jordan that I needed him too, and here we were, second birth and Jordan was just as busy getting ready as last time!  With Neila's birth, Jordan was running around the house putting together our home-birth kit, setting up the birth tub, running loads of laundry, he even went to the store for food!  We were prepared this time and had all of that set up by the time I was full-term.  Little did we know, our toddler would have super-creepy ESP -- she totally knew we were going to have the baby because she would not sleep and she has never done that before.  Thank goodness for Netflix on the computer because we set her up with non-stop cartoon watching in her room so Jordan could be with me to work through these contractions (still an annoying five minutes apart!) which were starting to be more and more unbearable.  By four-thirty we decided to call the midwife over because I thought my water had broken (it hadn't).  After talking on the phone with her for several minutes, my water did break and she was on her way!  Today was definitely the day!

Jordan got a hold of our friend who came right over to watch Neila and I realized this baby is coming soon because these contractions are no joke.  I couldn't believe how painful they were.  With Neila everything gradually came and went and intensified as the time clicked on.  This time it was like I had no warning before the contraction was here and it was like I hit the peak of each contraction immediately and stayed there -- no gradual incline and decline, no wave to cross over, no time for deep breaths or visualizations -- it was the most intense, painful, and surprising experience.  I thought I knew what to expect, this being my second home birth, but little did I know it would be totally different in every way.

When the midwives arrived, I was so relieved to see them and hear that it was time to push this baby out!  I knew I had to be close because the contractions felt like pushing contractions.  This was not the news I heard... only 5 cms!  Okay, I could do this -- I started crunching numbers in my head... Last time the midwife came over when I was 6 cms and labor was about four hours after that... I got this.  Well, here I was, several contractions later and now I knew I definitely could not do this.  I couldn't get out of my head; all I kept hearing myself say was how tired I was and how I didn't want to do this any more.  As I was saying these things, I knew they were terrible for my labor, that I was only setting the stage for  negativity, but I couldn't stop; "I'm so tired" became my mantra!  I labored, struggled to control my breathing, moaned, and moved all over our bedroom.  I tried everything I could think of -- standing, holding Jordan, on all fours, the birthing stool, backwards on the toilet, on the bed, in the tub -- nothing gave me any relief.  "Can you check me again?" I had to be close now because I was uncontrollably pushing, I couldn't stop myself!  ONLY 8!?  Seriously, that can't be right... I knew even more that I could absolutely not do this any longer.  I was so miserable!

It felt like three contractions later, with my midwife leaning over the tub and me trying my best to mimic her breathing to keep myself calm, when I heard the most beautiful thing I have ever heard -- "Where do you want to have your baby?"  I was so excited to hear her ask me that question It's time! I thought.  I couldn't decide, I just asked her to tell me where to go and she suggested the birthing stool.  This stool was different from the one Neila was born on.  This stool was much shorter which felt uncomfortable.  My knees where higher than my waist and I didn't like that.  The shape was weird, too, it just seemed like a bad fit.  I wanted to complain, but contractions came quickly and were right on top of each other and I didn't have time.  I suddenly became aware that baby's head was out!  It was the most familiar feeling and I was so relieved.  Even though it was by far the most painful, it was expected and, like I said, familiar, and that was reassuring.  Another push and the shoulders were out, another push (and a gentle pull from our midwife) and this baby's giant belly came followed by her little legs and tiny little feet!  I fell backwards onto our bed in exhaustion and watched our perfect little Kalae come right up to my chest.  I remember looking at Jordan for a split second and having that same feeling: familiarity.  He looked just as he did the second Neila was born -- pure happiness.

This was the moment that Neila's birth went the unexpected route and I ended up being separated from her for twelve hours, undergoing a three-hour surgery and three blood transfusions.  I was the most nervous for this time.  The time that the birth ends and the recovery begins.  I didn't want to move, I just wanted to hold our baby and bask in this moment -- stretching it out as long as possible.  I never wanted to leave this feeling, holding our baby and feeling so accomplished and proud of myself!  The most exciting part of this birth story is that that moment still hasn't ended -- one week later and I am still holding our baby, feeling so accomplished and proud of myself!  When I look at Jordan, I still see that happiness and 'the unexpected' in this birth story is how beautiful our two little girls are with each other. Neila is so enamored her little sister and wants to see and be a part of everything with her.

We became a family of four on February 23rd, 2013 at 8:08am, with Kalae weighing 8lbs. 8oz. measuring 21 inches.

Moving, Remodeling, and Growing a Baby...

Well... I should clarify... the 'moving' and 'remodeling' refers to the house -- just the 'growing' part refers to the baby.  Only 65 days until our due date with darling daughter deux which is a timeline that provides elation and angst simultaneously.  Sweet, I only have 65 more days-ish until I can start recovering from this crazy neck, leg, back (and G-d knows where else) pain and hold my sweet new little bundle; but, I'm also thinking, Seriously, only 65 more days until this new flooring needs to be in so we can finish the built-ins and finally unpack all that crap in our master bedroom?  Oh, and don't even remind me that we have a door across the hall that opens up to framing and the dirt under our house because we had to completely demolish the bathroom that once resided there.  Yeah, it's all good, deep breaths...

Two Survival Tips (whilst or whilst-not pregnant) for a Mommy of a Toddler During --enter crazy life event here--  (eg. remodeling, holidays, moving, and home upheaval in general):
1. Projects
Neila and I have entered project mode. Projects that I can do while laying down are especially amazing!    Thank goodness for Pinterest because a fun and "easy" (hah!) project is just a click away.  A few of the adventures we've gotten ourselves into this month are:
-gingerbread cookie making/decorating/& partial eating (read: no actual eating of the cookies occurred, just frosting and candy);
-ornament hanging (and re-hanging and re-hanging and re-hanging and re-hanging, yet again) and, yes, I did stop myself from rearranging all of them... it was difficult, but I managed to allow all of our ornaments to reside below a 3ft height all month;
-painting holiday posters for the fridge (I swore I wouldn't be one of those parents who let their kid totally take over the space with crazy messy artwork and other five-second created nonsense, but it's just so darn cute and oh-my-goodness is she proud!)

2. Everything Toddler-Usable at Toddler-Reachable Level
I realized quickly that she has definitely entered the "I'll-do-it-myself" stage (well, half the time -- the other half it's "I-absolutely-could-never-do-that-by-myself-Mommy-do-everything" stage, which is equally as fun especially when you realize you're still spoon-feeding your three year-old at every meal... oops).  So, I've slowly be making sure to keep everything (everything!) that she could possibly ever think of playing with, at a height that she can reach (either on her own, or with her little step stool).  This has saved me, easily, a few thousand tiny little chunks of time that undoubtedly have saved my sanity. Although I'm sure my retention of that sanity would be called into question if my husband knew I was claiming to still have it... I did wander around our new neighborhood lost for two hours yesterday because I couldn't find my way home and I had forgotten to bring my phone with me... oops (didn't I already say that? #pregnancybrain).

In reflection, the new abode, new pregnancy, and new daily toddler-isms really have been super amazing.  I spend so much time reminding myself how tired and "ready" I am to move into a finished house and finished pregnancy that I'm afraid I've forgotten to sit and enjoy the parts that really are once-in-a-lifetime sweetness... baby's little kicks and rolls (and sometimes not-so-little kicks and rolls!), the fact that my first little one is so excited to have a little sister to care for that she talks to my belly in the tiniest and gentlest little voice I've ever heard, my perfect husband who lets me sleep in every single non-working day (seriously, every single one!) so I can get a few more minutes (sometimes hours!) of sleep... there are many more things to be grateful for than to complain/worry/stress/annoy others about and I needed this reminder to stop and reset my thoughts to focus on those.  The truth is I only get 65 more days to soak all of these things in before our family transforms once again... who cares if the bathroom is not done and there are stacks of boxes in our master bedroom?

Here's to a happy, joyous, and grateful new year and to us all remembering to choose which waves are worth surfing.

Take Your Daughter to Work...

day!  until she can't stand the place because you have so much work to do Day! Yay!

I've been bringing Neila around my classroom since she was only a few months old.  In the early days it was pretty easy.  She would happily sit in the bouncer for 15-20 minute stretches with 5 minute breaks here and there and, when she got a little older, she would wrap up nicely into the pocket sling and "help" me with my work.  As a two-year-old, however, she is the neediest and most independent she's ever been. It's so unpredictable!  I've been trying to put together a survival kit -- a sort of Mary Poppins bag of tricks -- that will keep her entertained in mindful activities (versus passive, staring-at-a-screen activities) while I work.  Of course, I can (and have, sshhh!) just used a cartoon for thirty minutes to keep her "busy", but I end up feeling more guilty than I would have, had I not finished my work at all; proving, by the way, that Mom Guilt trumps Work Guilt.  So, what would all the magical things in my Mary Poppins bag be?

1. Dora; the best friend.
An amazing little person who has taught Neila the phrases, "That's right" and "Let's think".  I would not include Swiper the fox who has taught the phrases "You're too late!  You'll never find it now! Hahahaha".  Not cool Swiper; I totally don't appreciate your condescending tone when I'm looking for my keys/shoes/bag/phone/InsertVeryImportantItemNameHere.  I've found, in searching for Mary Poppins bag supplies, that it can be difficult to put a cartoon character in a bag.  It is also stupidly ridiculous (for us) to pay the consumerism machine for branded junk (Did I mention "for us"? Not judging.).  Solution: paper dolls that look like Dora.  We started printing (and sketching when we're without a printer) pictures of the characters Neila loves the most. We choose to color it (or not), we cut it out ("we" means "me" here), and we carry on with awesome make-believe ("we" means "her" here; after all, the point is for me to be able to get work done).
Effort: minimal; Time Commitment: 5 minutes; Time Return: 12 minutes

2. Tree fort; the cool hang-out.
Tree forts are awesome, always have been, always will be.  You feel awesome in a tree fort because you're up in your tower looking down on everyone thinking (come on, knowing) how much cooler you are because you are at a different elevation then The Others.  For Real tree forts (in the spectrum of "fake", "kinda real", "legit", and "for real") also have some super secret element as well; I call this the you-can't-see-me-being-awesome-in-here factor.  Fitting these two elements (elevation + secrecy) into a portable tree fort is difficult to do.  Solution: chair+blanket.  Yes, going under a chair (could be a small table) does put your eye-height elevation lower than everyone else, which could feel not as awesome as higher; however, there is a really high you-can't-see-me-being-awesome-in-here factor.  I toss a blanket/jacket/scarf/poster paper over a chair and she crawls right in.  Bonus points if you are able to line up several chairs (I drape a rug over them) to make a secret tunnel.
Effort: moderate; Time Commitment: 3 minutes; Time Return: 18 minutes

3. Work; the distractor.
I always have very essential work to do: Sticking hundreds of stickers all over papers, testing the buckets of markers on the chart-paper-covered floor to make sure the ink isn't dried out, ripping up magazines and old paperwork and scattering it everywhere, picking up scattered torn paper and putting it in the bin, moving tiny things from one container to another.  The list goes on and on.  Luckily for me, these can all be done by a two-year-old.  I emphasize how important each of these tasks are and ask her very nicely if she could please help me out.
Effort: non-existant; Time Commitment: 30 seconds; Time Return: 10-30 minutes
**Word of warning -- any of these essential jobs may be abandoned by said two-year-old at any time, thus, leaving only you to complete the task.  Big risk, but a potentially big payout.

I'll continue to develop my bag of tricks for Neila's work-time entertainment.  Probably the real trick is figuring out how to get through the final weeks of each semester while not having to put in twelve hour days...

Our Four Walls (well... ten, really)

As long as I can remember, shopping has been my nemesis.  I can't remember ever really enjoying the process and now that I'm an adult (still weird), paying off debt and covering bills makes shopping even more terrible.  I don't even like going to the grocery store because I have to carry around a calculator and put things back once I get to the register.  I think I'm about to embark on the best, worst shopping experience of my life: we're shopping for a house.  Don't get me wrong, I feel so blessed to be able to even venture down this road -- a road I thought we were about ten years away from -- I'm just so excited/nervous/apprehensive/eager/EnterAdjectiveHere about making such a huge decision...  This is becoming my new mantra:

"Home is any four walls that enclose the right person."  

(Helen Rowland)

A. The laundry list.  
When Jordan and I first moved in together in 2007, we found this little one bedroom apartment in Mission Bay, San Diego.  It was super cute with a white open-beamed ceiling in the living room, which, as it turns out, was a wonderful home for the (literally) thousands of termites that fluttered down from above me while I lay snoozing on our futon one afternoon.  One.

Place number two was an awesome condo which we rented out of The Metrome in downtown San Diego. It was really close to Petco Park, so close, in fact, that you could hear the crowd before you saw the hit on TV.  Of course, in all reality, we couldn't afford cable so really you could just hear the crowd faster than our browser would update online.  We were engaged and later married while we lived in that apartment so I always remember it as being my favorite of "our places". Two.

When we relocated to San Jose we lived in an Avalon community prone to mold, crabby employees, and, the ultimate move-considering tipping point: high rent.  There was this great little pizza place across the street we used to eat at on Fridays after work, Rosie's.  We'd share an ahi-tuna salad and each order a slice of pizza.  I can't believe how much money we had then -- eating out every week!  Aaahh, life before babies.  Three.

Now we're up to 2009 and rent was dropping rapidly in the short six months we'd lived in San Jose so we moved again to a little Victorian house near the Shark Tank.  We shared the house with another couple who we're pretty sure were up to some scandalous shenanigans.  The night we first saw them washing their car at two o'clock in the morning convinced us, but really the wooden stakes they hid in the basement were weird, too.  What's up with that?  After Jordan nearly set a fire with the floor heater while babysitting our niece... did I say nearly?  After Jordan did set the place on fire, we moved to The Woods.  Four.

We lived in The Woods the longest, for sure.  It was an apartment community the size of a small town - with several pools, gyms, and playgrounds.  I loved The Woods because our darling Neila was born there. I can still remember walking with Jordan through the community at 7 in the morning, stopping every eight to ten minutes for contractions, meditating on the cherry blossom trees that would bloom again the next year on her first birthday.  Five.

Moving to Seattle (where cherry blossom trees definitely don't bloom in February) was our introduction to a two-bedroom apartment!  The first month we still slept downstairs all together in Neila's room, nervous that she would be sleeping by herself for the first time.  Turns out we had one pretty independent daughter on our hands because the first night we let her sleep alone, she slept in two hours later than normal!  It was nice to be able to roll over in the middle of the night and not have to do it at the pace of a cautious, sleep-deprived snail.  Six.

And now here we are, just five years later, in "our place" number seven: a cute little one-bedroom with ten walls, two windows, and a dining room table (no chairs, though; a story for another time).  We're sleeping in the living room on a murphy bed (my design, thankyouverymuch), eating out once a month ("Remember when we were super rich and we ate at the pizza place every Friday?!" I always say), and shopping for a house!  Seven.

B. The laundry lady.
What shopping experience of a single-income family of three would be complete if not for a fun budget (and by "fun" I mean totally ridiculous you're-never-ever-going-to-find-a-house-for-that-much; so says our real estate agent).  I'm a firm believer in just letting things work out (they always do), so I gave our real estate agent some advice that I tell my students all the time "Shut the f_ up and just do your f_'n work!"; well, that's the way it sounds in my head anyway.  The way it sounds to everyone else is "Just do your best, I know you can do it" or even sometimes "I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could".  Both much nicer versions of the same thing, I think.

In reality, Jordan's on this one.  He's making appointments and scoping out listings.  At this point in our journey, MLS translates to Mental Life Suck, but I bet Jordan actually knows what it really means...  Yay, for super-amazing-awesome husbands!  I'm not sure how I would defeat the best-worst (I'll add scariest) shopping trip of my life without him!

The final month of counting in months...

Before having our first baby Jordan and I decided "We're not going to do that lame thing parents always do and talk about how old their babies are in months -- it's ridiculous.  Who can keep up with that?"  Truth be told, that's about the only thing we could keep up with at first!  Why I couldn't remember to eat lunch, but I could remember exactly how many days, hours, and minutes old our newborn was, I don't know.

Motherhood is a strange thing.  It's the first time I realized that I am not the center of the universe (yes, it took 25 years), the first time I fell deeply in love at first sight (sorry world), and the first time I discovered that I can't do it all on my own.  Our partnership as parents was natural, dare I say easy -- it was not too long before things fell right into place for us.  Remembering each moment since our darling Neila joined our family was even easier.  Now, here we are at month 23, with only two weeks and four days before we transition into describing her age in years and half-years.

Two is a milestone for Neila, but it feels like one for us, too.  She talks now and states her opinions.  (We translate and rephrase her opinions!)  She's beginning to remember parts of her day and retell events.  (Which abruptly reminded me that "That sucks!" is an inappropriate term to use in the house.)  She can count and describe things.  (As long as every color is pink and every quantity is two.)  She can prepare her room for bedtime and recall family rules.  (Using only the purple Snappi and only the pink rule: use kind hands.)  Having an easy-going, happy baby for the past 23 months and 13 days has been a luxury of which we've enjoyed every second; even though it makes me one of those lame parents, as Jordan and I transition as parents into full-on, serious toddlerhood, I hope I always remember how many months old she is.