Just when you thought it was fine to have children and they werent really a problem, the second child is born.
Its just my theory that God or the Forces of Nature always give you an "easy" first child. This helps carry on the species. "Hey, this isnt so bad. I can do this, I can handle this, kids are great". You have a second child. It ensures the species will survive because you know, one child is negative population growth and the one child might be lost along the way toward adulthood. Two kids means the survival of the species. It helps the family and traditions survive also. But. You age ten years before the second child reaches 3 years. It puts a severe strain on your marriage. Everything is on the verge of breaking apart. In other words the second child is somehow part product of the Devil. 4 out of 5 times I can tell you this is how it works. The second child must be some sort of test prepared for you by God or the Forces of Nature. They could make it into a survival reality show. If you still have all your hair intact and with limited grey by their fifth birthday you win a prize. The prize is called "OK, you can breathe freely again. At least until they are a teenager".
My second daughter is under three right now at the time of this writing. I have trouble breathing freely. The Doctor said on our last visit that if she doesnt gain two more pounds by her next visit three months hence, we have to find some other method to get her nourished properly and growing. You would think that is nothing, two pounds, easy. Folks, lemme tell you every ounce of that growth is going to be like 3rd down and 9 yards to go.
You know, every problem your children have reflects back on you as a BAD PARENT. She doesnt want to eat. She eats bad things only. Shes hyper. YOUR FAULT. I guess its true except that I really had no control over which DNA got accepted and ravelled up in her chromosomes and which didnt. Its a poor excuse. I have to take responsibility for every action since her coming into this world.
But try as I might none of the usual food games work on this girl. Helicopters, the boat, the car driving into the garage, her mouth is sealed shut. My wife has gotten the "OK, eat one bite for grandma, one bite for grandpa," routine to work, but it works for five spoonfuls. We have a lot more relatives and a lot more food than that. And if she eats one meal one day, she is not going to eat the same food the next day. Except for eggs. She wants an egg, two eggs every day. I limit her to one. That will keep her weight from going negative, but not really growing. One boiled egg a day doesnt cut it. My wife racks her brain every day about what will she eat the next day? No, not that, its green. Well if you make the soup either mixed up with the blender or with no carrots it might work. She doesnt like red, she doesnt go for the spaghetti with bolognese sauce. That makes me wonder if she has any of my food DNA at all. Spaghetti and any food red is my lifeblood. Doesnt eat any vegetables or fruits. She doesnt like ketchup for the love of Mary. She likes the juice from the grapefruit and we get some vitamin C into her by squeezing fresh lemon into her tea. She eats fewer items than my older daughter did at this age and I counted those on the fingers of both hands. This girl... chicken, fish, plain spaghetti and potatoes. Can you see where this is heading? Frustration and "its all your fault". They will take her away from us because she is malnourished. They ll put her to a hospital where she will be fed intravenously and we the parents wont be allowed to come near her. My wife will blame me. I was irresponsible. We break up. The children grow up in a broken home which leads to drugs, delinquency and teen pregnancy. It sounds like a bad acid trip.
I scream at her, "the devil is going to come and take you away if you wont eat. I hear him outside our door now." She started to cry and ate her boiled potatoes. "Small one daddy", meaning she will take a small bite. "OK," I agree, "small one." She ate 3 small boiled potatoes after her boiled egg and that was her lunch. I hugged her for joy. "Lets take a nap now" and I held her hand lying on the rug beside her bed. She fell asleep peacefully. I took a ten minute cat nap. My strength came back and my frustration disappeared. All is well in the world and at least my daughter wont become a dropout, delinquent, assuming she eats her dinner tonight and the next and the next night after that. I might suggest we just give her the bio hot dogs for dinner so I can get through one more day without the total threat of disaster and disintegration and blood on my hands.
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