When I found out I was pregnant with my second, I thought, "Okay, they will be three years apart. That's a good spacing." Here's what I didn't understand: I would be thrown into parenting two instead of one at the same time I had a three-year-old. I further didn't understand that the "terrible twos" were a walk in the park. Threes on the other hand. Holy cow! The attitude. The stubbornness. The testing of limits over and over again. Even my mother, who thinks my daughter is just about perfect, has said things like, "Do you ever think that maybe the terrible twos started at three?" or "You weren't that independent at that age."
What I'm saying is, I'm still getting the hang of this whole two-kids thing. I'm lucky to eat lunch, and luckier still if I get to eat it warm. If you follow this blog (and I'm probably just talking to the screen here), bear with me while I figure out how to accomplish more than just keeping my children alive everyday.