I’m feeling some “mommy guilt.” It’s like those two words are destined to be together for all of eternity (and then maybe a little longer). Today I feel guilty about two things. First, someday my 9 month-old baby Summer will read this blog and think I didn’t write enough about her. Second, someday Summer will read this blog and think, “my name used to be Presley?” O.k., we will tell her. I promise.
These second babies just seem to get cheated a bit. Of course, I love her immensely. I adore smothering her soft baby skin with a trillion kisses. In the middle of the night, I must check that she is still breathing. I obsess over every one degree temperature change in her room – always certain that I’ve set the air conditioner too hot or too cold.
But still. Her naps are constantly cut short because we must pick up my 3 year-old Dylan from preschool. I’ve never even taken Summer to a “mommy and me” class. When Dylan was a baby, I brought her to infant massage class, baby yoga and other programs to engage her mind, strengthen her growing body and reinforce our mother/baby bond.
Because I have two kids, I’m just not able to focus on Summer with the same intensity. I can’t even remember exactly the last time I took a picture of her with those saucer eyes and easy grin. Isn’t that pathetic? With Dylan, we had entire baby albums documenting just a two week period of her life. And Dylan, even as a baby, had little interest in delivering the smiles for our photo shoots.
Of course, Summer has something Dylan did not. She has Dylan. And to see the two of them laughing and entertaining each other is… well, amazing. So to my Summer lovin’, you are not forgotten. You are treasured and we love you.