While I was in the hospital after Penelope was born, I was so happy. I had a wonderful husband, a sweet little boy, and a brand new pink baby. My beautiful family was growing, and my hours passed in relative peace. When I got home, something changed. It was the first day we were home together, and JD had gone off to work. Penelope was asleep in her bassinet in the living room, and Patrick climbed on my lap to snuggle with me. I noticed then how incredibly heavy he was, how ridiculously large his hands were, how hot his face and hair were, and I hated it. It was then that I began to resent this sweet little boy. On that day, and for many months afterwards, I irrationally held it against Patrick for growing up, for interrupting my time with tiny, new Penelope, as if it were his fault for needing my attention. However ashamed I am to admit it, those were my feelings. I knew that it was stupid to feel that way, and it was because I knew this that I felt even more resentment towards him, as if he were rubbing it in my face that I felt that way in the first place. This lasted some months, and finally it has lessened itself. However, I believe those months of resentment has damaged Patrick a bit. I'm sure he picked up on my feeling and probably began to feel the same way. There have been many yelling fits between us both, and many many times where he's told me that he hates me. It's very rare that he listens to me when I ask him for help or when I discipline him. I know that I've probably doomed myself to this, so I try to be patient with him and give him the attention I know he wants. We have our good days and our bad days, and some weeks the bad outnumber the good. Others, though, are the opposite, for which I am thankful. I've always been a bit of a romantic, but I've tried to temper it with reality. When I imagined having two children, I thought Patrick would be helpful and love his little sister while also behaving like an angel himself. After indulging in that vision for a few months before Penelope was born, I accepted the fact that things wouldn't go that way and that there were challenges ahead. I didn't expect, however, that those challenges would ultimately stem from me. When I finally realized that my selfish feelings were hurting Patrick more and more, I began to pay more attention to the things he did well instead of his own selfish faults. And I found that he was ever the same curious, wilful, creative little boy. I have to constantly remind myself of this - he didn't ask to have a sister, and he shouldn't suffer because of it. It's a challenge for me and it's a challenge for him, but it's hard for me to let him grow up. I suppose seeing Penelope as a brand new baby made me realize just how fast Patrick was growing up, and how much I didn't like it. Then again, it's nice to be able to teach him how to write the alphabet and see him write his name, to watch his imagination grow. I try to focus on that instead of how much he doesn't listen to me or how badly he misbehaves at times.