"So how is it with two?!?"

This is the recent FAQ posed to us Armstrongs.

Seasoned mothers of multiple children ask it with a warm, understanding smile.

Seasoned fathers of multiple children ask it with a laugh and an "I hear ya!" echo in their voice.

Mothers of one ask with urgent curiosity intertwined with fear and trepidation.

Fathers of one don't usually think of asking.

Those with no children yet probably think those of us with kids are crazy.

So in whatever tone is applicable to your current stage of life, we hear you ask us: How is it with two?

Life is different with two.

Better.

Harder.

More fun.

Busier.

Funnier.

More tiring.

More rewarding.

More complicated.

Richer.

You realize how much you learned by going through it once, and how quickly it all comes back to you.

Baby #1's crying grated on you like the horrid sound of fingers on a chalkboard, and it stressed you out, and it sometimes led to marital tiffs, and it made you feel like a terrible parent who somehow was failing to meet your baby's needs. Baby #2's crying is inevitable. So it doesn't grate on you. You sometimes don't even notice it. It doesn't usually stress you out. Instead of having a tiff, you usually laugh with your spouse about how funny life is right now. You don't feel like a terrible parent, because although you still do the bouncing, shhhing, rocking, singing thing, you realize that sometimes babies just cry, and that's okay. You also realize that the more they cry, the better they'll sleep, so you get excited about the really good return on your investment.

You realize you can't possibly meet both children's needs all of the time, so you quickly learn that you have a choice of either feeling like a failure constantly, or of coming to terms with the fact that trying your best is good enough. It's not always good enough to make them happy, but it's all you can do, so it's good enough.

You realize what a smart decision it was to give up on the idea of scrapbooking baby photos. Over it.

You discover how gigantic your first kid has gotten. His size increased so gradually that you never even noticed, but once Baby #2 arrives, your first "baby"'s size pops out of a dark closet and catches you by surprise.

You realize how incredibly stinky a two-year-old's diapers are. Again, you just get used to it. And then along comes a teensy newborn diaper full of non-stinky poop. And man, you suddenly really want that two-year-old to be potty-trained.

You realize how fast it all goes, so you savor more of the little things. (Except for the two-year-old's diapers.)

Things become a lot less of a big deal. Whether the baby sleeps in bed with you or not isn't even a debate when he is born. You just do whatever helps you get the most sleep. Period. It is not a moral dilemma.

You realize that the two kids have the same nap time. Of course! And you don't even have to try. Because Baby #2 is dragged around all morning with #1, and is forced against his will to get completely overtired and exhausted. So by the time #1 is ready for his nap, #2 is already a goner.

Daily showers are overrated. You'll stink at the end of each day anyway.

You discover that your dream of having an easy second baby was completely unrealistic, and just because your first one had evening colic doesn't mean you receive a "Get Out of Jail Free" card for #2. It is definitely possible to have two cranky babies in a row. The Armstrong Brothers are living proof.

Same goes for car-seat screamers. It is possible to get two carhaters.

The baby crankies don't make you wonder if your child will be a terror and end up in jail at age 14. You realize their temperaments as new ones are much more related to how their tummies feel than to what they will eventually test on the Meyers-Briggs personality assessment.

Sometimes it is stressful to be so needed. All the time. But how much better than living a life where no one needs you.

Your first child was totally indulged. There was no reason not to do what he wanted almost all of the time. (This is why siblings are good things.)

Siblings can really bring out the worst in a person.

You obsessed with #1 about how much sleep you got (or didn't get) each night. But with #2, the idea of sleeping through the night doesn't even cross your mind. You get so used to interrupted sleep that you hardly think about it anymore.

You realize how great it was to save all of #1's old clothes, not just to save money, but also because it is so cute to see a whole new person wearing the same old thing.

Those "Five S's" that that one doctor made a lot of money off of (the author of "The Happiest Baby on the Block") don't always work. They worked for #1. They don't work for #2. And Mom's maxim, that "I used to have six theories and no kids. Now I have six kids and no theories," holds true.

You don't stress about things like clogged tear ducts that continually produce eye boogers on your baby. There are more important things to think about, and you know they will go away.

There are lots of things with #1 that you thought were so incredible and unique. Like loud crackle sounds when the baby yawns, and the dramatic grunts while dirtying a diaper. When #2 comes, you realize these are universal baby cutenesses.

If you didn't have time before to sit and chat on the phone, you really don't have time anymore. And all your good friends still understand.

To survive a day, you have to be okay with never finishing anything. You start writing a thank-you note, and leave it sitting there with one sentence left because babies need you. You start doing the dishes, and three cups get cleaned before nap time is over. You begin a blog entry, and it takes you 15 sit-down sessions over three days to finish it, because there's no such thing as a solid 45 minutes of empty time anymore. You can no longer be frustrated about unfinished tasks, or you'd land yourself in a mental institution. "To be continued" sums up your life.

For your own sanity, you have to clean up the house as you go. You'll never have time to scrub the whole bathroom, so a wipe to the sink here and a scrub to the floor there will have to do for now. Eventually everything will get clean. Just not all at the same time.

It takes a really long time to get out of the house.

There is no such thing as "going to run a quick errand." Yesterday's trip to the post office was an all-morning adventure. And yes, you've got to see these things as adventures.

That ketchup on the curtain? Forget about it. You'll be happier that way.

Not everything causes autism. With #1 you wouldn't let him be near the computer, you wouldn't let him on the couch since it's full of chemicals for flame retardancy that cause autism-like symptoms in lab rats, you wouldn't let him watch TV. You do your best to avoid chemicals and unnatural everything. But they're everywhere. You can't control everything. And paranoid parents probably cause a lot more harm than chemicals do. God has a distinct plan for every baby. And every kid's got somethin'.

You realize how one of the absolute best gifts you can give to a family with a new baby is dinner deliveries. Trips to the grocery store are hard. By the end of the day you're just plain tired. And the wonderful part is not even so much the idea of not having to cook as it is not having to do all those dishes. Because dishes get done only three cups at a time.

If makeup doesn't get put on every day, you can't go around feeling ugly about it. But if you really can't deal with the emotional turmoil of going without, the best place to put it on is in the car. If you can get that far, that is, without forgetting your makeup bag in the house or dropping it on the way because your arms are too full. Or if you are able even to exit the house at all, for that matter. Strap in the kids, turn the car on to warm up the engine, and use that reliable rear-view mirror. It may not be the most glamorous makeup application, but the kids are chained down, safe, and not destroying the house or each other. And your eyelashes are visible for the rest of the day--which, really, is a great feeling.

You realize more and more by the hour how amazing your parents really are. How did they pull it off, anyway?

Seasons are short. Changing 10 to 15 newborn diapers a day doesn't bother you anymore because at age two he'll only go through a few a day. Needing you often during the night won't happen when he's older; in fact, even your two-year-old doesn't want you to rock him to sleep anymore. There will be a time when his nose is stuffed and he wants to sleep on top of you as you sleep inclined on the couch, and then in a few short years he will want nothing to do with you. So don't worry if he sleeps on top of you for a while. Or in your bed. Or in the basket beside your bed. These things don't really matter. It's a season. And it's short.

Two years between children is great. It's right when #1 insists on doing everything--everything--all by himself. Conveniently, this happens right when Mom's arms are full with a new one and she wouldn't be able to help him anyway.

Nursing is God's way of forcing a mom to rest. It enables her to tell her begging older one that she can't get up and play with him--without feeling in the least bit guilty.

Really, truly, it is possible to love two very different children the very same amount.

And so that's a bit of what we've learned these past five and a half weeks, a bit of a glimpse into how life is with two. You can be assured that this long-winded answer to "So how is it with two?!?" took four tries at the computer to complete (interrupted by two boys and seven loads of laundry), and it would be longer if it weren't for the fact that Baby #2 is now crying. And who knows how long he's been at it, because when the second one comes, you don't even notice it anymore...


And now for some real-life-with-two photos. Here is Luke after several minutes alone in his room, when he told us he needed to go poo-poo. "Do you want to go in the potty?" "No. Room. Bye-bye!" So off he went. We can usually smell when the task is finished, and then go see what mischief he was up to while he stunk up his room. This week his favorite spot was not the closet, as it has been, but rather behind the rocking chair. So as he dirtied his diaper, he played behind his rocking chair and lined up 14 train cars. Why not?


Luke confesses, at times, that he wants to be a baby. He enjoys climbing in the Moses basket, and gets a kick out of Zeke's toys. He even asks for Mommy's nummies. That wish we don't indulge. That was a season, Son. And it's over. Hate to break it to you...


And here's the nummy-stealer himself. Getting bigger by the day! He's now outgrown the bear suit and his little heart-bummed outfit :-( and is in 3-6 month clothes. Too quick! Too quick! Stop!


This will be happening before we know it, too. 14 more years...


Look at his pose.


A new meaning to "hands-free."


The rains came in this week, so out came the jacket and boots. Mommy, Luke, and Zeke spent one afternoon tromping through the fields, stomping in puddles, chasing turkeys and rabbits, and climbing mud piles.




Luke fell into a puddle and got soaked. Notice the mud all the way up his right leg. He loved it. He felt very proud of himself and called himself a "workman."


His hands getting dirty, however, was not something that pleased him. That was the final kicker to go inside and take a hot bath.


Back at the ranch... This photo was taken the next day, after Richie received a call at work: "Hi honey. You have a damsel in distress." Bethany had trekked with the boys to campus, hoping to make a surprise visit to Richie's work. She made many mistakes. One, she shouldn't have walked that far only a few weeks after a c-section. Her incision got sore. Two, she shouldn't have carried so much stuff with her. A two-year-old, a baby, two blankets, the stroller, snacks for Luke, the Moby wrap, her water bottle... Things were falling everywhere, Zeke woke up and was screaming his head off, Luke was dawdling 20 feet behind Bethany no matter what speed she went, commenting about passing trucks and buses and curious-looking passersby in between humming "Freres Jacques." She couldn't make it to campus. But she couldn't turn around and make it home. Long story short: Richie came to the rescue while Bethany found a building to nurse in. Boy did she get strange looks from all the undergrads who probably aren't used to seeing a mom whip out a booby right in public. (Granted, she was fully covered, but still.) You've got to do what you've got to do.


The next afternoon Mommy, Luke, and Zeke didn't try such an ambitious venture. Just across Russell Blvd. to Fluffy Donuts. Bethany got a huge apple fritter, and Luke got a teeny donut hole. Bethany kept hers in the white paper bag so Luke wouldn't realize the size discrepancy. Luke was Mommy's "workman" and held her keys. He loves to swing them, cries when they hit his face, and goes back to swinging them again.




Zeke was much less ornery this adventure.


Two photos from a couple weeks ago... We were so happy to see Aunt Rhonda, who visited from Georgia! She got to meet Zeke and Siena, and reacquaint herself with Luke. She learned that it was a very smart move to bring Luke a present. If anyone brings him a present, that person is his friend for life. He was completely shy until she handed him a present. Then it was show-off time. Zeke, on the other hand, cried his head off most of the time (6 to 10 PM, of course); and Siena was her happy beautiful self (of course, of course, of course) (someone's got to compensate for our grumpy babies).


And a Poppy shot.


Here is Luke with his cooool face on.


Zeke has a cooool face, too.


Zeke was being so cute the other night that we just had to whip out the camera. It didn't matter that it was 3 AM. We were both awake, and getting a kick out of the little fellow.



And there you have it. Life is full. As Bethany told Richie the other night, with a sigh: "Life is just so... so... continuous." (3 AM photos as proof.) We are busy, and we are tired.

But ah, life is better with two.

(And we can only imagine, with urgent curiosity intertwined with fear and trepidation, what life would be like with more...)