I'm Cured

The minute that Ava was born, when they handed me that cute little seven pound baby, I made the decision that no matter what I wanted to have a third baby. I couldn't even recall Alana being that small and she wasn't even three yet. I needed at least one more newborn to snuggle and love.

The entire first year of Ava's life flew by so fast, now she is a trouble-making 16 month old. She is a pantry raiding, toy throwing, hair pulling little stinker. She is cute though, so I forgive her.

For a long time after I had Ava I couldn't wait till we had a third baby. Every milestone she hit, I always thought, I don't want her to be my last baby to do this. This can't be the last first steps, the last little baby rolling and crawling and learning to do things. Up until Ava was one I was constantly thinking of having a third baby.

But right now, while Ava is perfecting the terrible ones, I can wait. The terrible twos ain't got nothing on Ava. She is capable of climbing small couches, tearing things off the Christmas tree in a single swipe, splashing all of the water out of the bathtub, making a room look like a hurricane went through it, and getting everything out of the kitchen cupboards. She is a small but mighty monster, and until she is not so bratty, I've developed quite a bit of patience in waiting for my next baby.

I don't care how small and cute they start out, in one short year they transform into small terrorists, so for now I need all the energy I have to deal with all of the energy that Ava has. She can't be reasoned with, and must be considered hostile.

She is lucky she's cute though, because when I look at her chubby little cheeks and big eyes with freakishly long eyelashes, I just can't stay mad. Even when she's streaking through the house with a colander on her head, or keeping me awake half the night because she has an ear infection.

I can vaguely remember Alana being a terrible and headstrong one year old, but she's so big now its hard to recall what it was like when she couldn't just ask me for what she wanted, or hold my hand and calmly walk around the store, instead of bolting the minute I set her down in a public place. When Alana turned two, it was like someone flipped a switch, and she was instantly easier to parent. She could go without a nap and not be cranky, and she could watch entire episodes of Spongebob without blinking.

Ava's brattiness even has us rethinking our annual trip to Disneyland. Our preferred month of choice for Disneyland is February, because its not crowded and the weather is perfect, and that happens to be when we get our tax returns. But memories of Alana's impatience with sit-down restaurants and waiting in line during her first Disneyland trip have us considering waiting till Ava is a few months older instead of the 18 months that she will be in February.

Ava has cured my baby fever, or at least postponed it. I'm sure it will make a spontaneous return, and I will longingly look at newborn babies and pregnant women at the store. Until then, I'm busy chasing around a bratty girl and picking up the messes she leaves in her path.

The guilty party. She started out nice.

Now she's more bratty than nice.