Months ago when I was still in Israel, my friend Batsheva told me about her son, a lively, charming little boy with an easygoing manner. That is, until her daughter came along. Once lil’ sis put in an appearance, her once-docile son turned into an angry, demanding, tantrum-throwing, baby-smacking masochist. And that was after his nap.

When I heard this story I smiled smugly to myself, knowing Yonah was way too cool a cucumber to fall apart like that. And for the most part, I was right. The only shift in behavior we’ve seen so far is his crying at bedtime — until now, he usually goes down without a peep — and a few little hissy fits when I’m nursing and can’t read him “Hop on Pop” for the 8 trillionth time. Certainly nothing nightmarish. As for his feelings for his new little bro, Yonah is mostly still turning in his own orbit, though once in a while he will stop at the pack n’ play and watch Akiva in action. Yesterday, when I was holding the baby, Yonah came over and touched Akiva’s head. “Hair,” he said, and then poked the little guy in the eye, telling me, “That’s an eye!”. So, I think he’s slowly discovering that this little creature is, in fact, another little person with body parts just like his and who may not be going anywhere so fast.

The hardest part for me has been those moments when I have to decide, “Which one comes first?”. I remember my mother telling me once that the toughest part of going from one to two is letting one of them cry. I get it what she’s saying now, but I certainly haven’t mastered it yet. For example, the other night I was home alone with the boys and Yonah started wailing as soon as I put him in bed. Akiva, inspired, jumped in to back him up. I had no idea who I should tend to first. So, I quickly strapped Akiva into his sling, moved him onto my hip and propped Yonah on my other hip, rocking them both and looking like the Old Bag Lady in the Shoe. I know it will get easier, but right now the thought of leaving either one of them to just cry is way too heartbreaking.