A Tough Act to Follow

Now that we know our next child is a boy, we are having a tough time following up our first son's name with an equally powerful and meaningful title for boy #2.

Our son's name is Dante Marcello. Dante, after the famous medieval author Dante Alighieri, and Marcello after my father.

Logically one can't follow up a name like that with something like "Jimmy" or "Steve" or "Bobby" (no offense if anyone has those names), so I've been scouring my favorite literary authors and works to find the perfect name that can match in awesomeness to our firstborn.

Boy is this tough. Do we go Italian again? Do we venture to the English kings? Knights of the Round Table? Renaissance Painters? The Musketeers? Philosophers and Great Thinkers? Greek and Roman Myths? Norse myths? Dare I say, biblical?!? Do we simply flip the name book, stick our finger in, and go with what we are pointing at (not a good choice, since when we did that we landed on "Englebert").

We may have an idea for a first name, but now what? Do we have to come up with a middle? I don't have a middle name, so why should we?

Dante has given us two suggestions: Spinwheel and Baby Junior. Right now, those two don't seem that bad.

The Second Coming

I assume that, unless you are living under a rock or that, in fact, this blog is just an excuse for me to talk to myself, that you know that I am pregnant. I think I can also assume, unless the above criteria apply, that you already know that I have another child of whom I brag about constantly on this blog and in real life, much to the annoyance of my friends around me. But hey, they do it too, so I am entitled.

Anyway, I would like to ask a question. It is a very important question and one whose answer I seek on a daily basis. It may even be a more important question than "What is the meaning of Life, the Universe, and Everything?" (the answer is 42) and may even go down in history as the question of the ages. Ok so here goes,

WHY THE HELL AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?!?!?

Now now, before you go all "she hates the baby", and "she doesn't see how lucky she is to be pregnant", let me clarify that I know why I am doing this again and am very happy to be pregnant with a (hopefully) healthy child, but, I do wonder sometimes,

WHY THE HELL AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?!?!?

Seriously, we've been done with diapers for over 6 months and now we are going to start all over again. The midnight feedings, the 2 am feedings, the 5 am feedings, the feeding feedings, the crying, the rocking, the spit up, the barfies, the pukies, the poopies, the sleep on your back, the sleep on your stomach, the "is he breathing", the baby monitor, the onesies, the burp cloths, the no sleep, and all this on top of having a demanding, independent, cranky, lovey, mixed up tortuous 3 year old to take care of as well.

The first time around, I remember that I was constantly aware of being pregnant. I think I had already purchased half the baby department at Target and set up the nursery before I was 4 months pregnant. We were giddy with excitement! Every day I was closer and closer to having a new baby and every day I was more and more excited about having said baby. I was fresh, and cute, and yes I had pimply skin, but I was glowing and my hair was thick and I was wonderful!

This time around? It's a different story. I am constantly forgetting I am pregnant and just still think I am fat. When I get tired, I can't just sit on the couch and watch Judge Judy, no, I have to attend to Screamy McScreamerton who has just "accidentally used scissors" to cut his pillowcase. When I feel like going to sleep, I can't, because I've got dinner to make, a bath to run, clothes to fold, and Angry McFusserton demanding that I read "I'm A Big Brother" to him for the 67th time. When I get the sharp pains of the ligaments stretching in my belly, I can't sit down for a second because out of the corner of my eye, I see the dog is now half green and half yellow and Leonardo DaPoopy coming around the corner with the fingerpaint bottles that were on the high windowsill (how he got them, I have no clue) in his hands.

I've got the Andromeda Galaxy exploding on my face, I am pulling clumps of hair out in the shower, and I thought I would love every minute of it, but to be honest, I keep saying to myself,

WHY AM I DOING THIS AGAIN?!?!?

No really, before I get another lovely "Anonymous" poster commenting that I am a horrible person (funny how it is always under the guise of anonymity that people grow a set), I am happy to be pregnant, I just don't remember it being this tough. Granted, I was younger (4 years is a lot in dog years) and I also did not have the huge responsibility of being a mommy already. Being Dante's mom is my top priority and now that I have another top priority, it makes it that much more difficult to juggle between the two. And it doesn't help that I have to tend to my farm in Farmville, or keep up with who I am offending on Moms Like Me, and organize my book club, and schedule and attend meet-ups and playdates with my mommy group. This is hard!! And it is just going to be that much harder when The Bean actually enters the world and hangs out with us.

The Bible speaks of the Second Coming as "....of those days shall the sun be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be shaken." Matthew 24: 29 (KJV). I'll settle for this second coming with an epidural, a knock-out pill, and a couple hours of sleep.