Three years ago, my wife told me the news: we were expecting our second child. We were thrilled. We also knew exactly what to expect. After all, we’d been down this road before.

The famous book What to Expect When You’re Expecting is a classic guide for new parents. It answers all those big questions about pregnancy and the early months. We didn’t need to review it, though. We already had one kid, we knew exactly what to expect. In fact, we were quite convinced Kid No. 2 was going to be simple compared to Kid No. 1.

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

Every child is unique. It took time to adapt to my son’s unique interests and acknowledge that he wasn’t, in fact, a Mini-Me. Yet, the things that make him unique are worth cherishing. In a similar vein, my daughter is not Kid No. 2. She’s not a book we’re re-reading or the second season of a show we’ve already started. She definitely isn’t her big brother. She’s her own unique self, with her own joys and challenges. She is not what we expected. The entire act of parenting multiple children is different than we expected as well.

Different right from the start

When kids are born, they are blobs capable of three things: eating, going in their diapers, and sleeping. Don’t get me wrong, they’re adorable little blobs. To their sleep-deprived, often-struggling parents, those blobs are pure perfection. But again, we knew exactly what to expect with our second one … or did we?

My son was easy to feed, but impossible to get to sleep. I fed him bottles in the middle of the night, and he downed them. I’d also drive him for hours in circles hoping the car would lull him into slumber. My daughter, however, was a great sleeper. She laid down and slept. But feeding … Well, for the first six months of her life my daughter wanted nothing to do with me. To use a quote from the old show Dinosaurs, I was “not-the-Mama.” Never mind that I was the stay-at-home parent, and in charge of feedings and keeping her happy. If I was around there were tears and yells. No bottles. Ever. Especially from that bearded non-the-Mama guy.

Fast forward a bit, and the differences continue. Every time we think we know what’s next, we’re wrong. My son was an early speaker. He was forming entire sentences and stories before age 2. He wasn’t as physically curious, however, especially with things like climbing. My daughter is a climber and a daredevil. She sees a ledge and she instantly jumps. Daddy — who is tolerable now, I’m happy to say, though still apparently less fun than Mom — will catch her. That’s the belief. Sometimes she leaps with eyes closed, saying “Dad.” Just a literal leap of faith. They’re quite terrifying. She sees a ledge and jumps. She spies something small and completely inedible — into the mouth it goes. Why are toddlers so darned self-destructive? On the other hand, she’s only just talking now, at nearly 3. Completely unlike my son. Doctors told us there’s nothing wrong with this at all, she just developed differently.

There’s another dynamic to the entire “what to expect when we clearly don’t know what the heck we’re expecting” phase of our life. We spent months preparing our son for his sister’s arrival. We may have watched the show Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood a bit too much. There’s a season about the arrival of Daniel’s baby sister and how he copes with it emotionally. Of course, by the time we were ready to go to the hospital, my son told me how excited he was to meet the new baby tiger our family was having. We did explain that his sister would, in fact, be human.

Unique unto themselves but bonded together

The sibling dynamic is unpredictable and remains so in my family. My daughter idolizes her big brother. Even in her not-fond-of-me-the-Dad phase, she worshiped her brother. She imitates him and laughs when he’s around and always wants to be near him. As for my son, it goes in waves. Sometimes she’s OK, sometimes a friend, but often she’s an obstacle. Jealousy and even cruelty towards her appear from time to time, and they create challenges all their own. Even now, we’re never 100 percent sure what to expect on a day-to-day basis, although we always hope that it’ll be a day when the kids get along. When they do get along, it’s the best. There’s no greater image than the two kids hugging and smiling.

If I had a time machine, and could go back to try and explain to myself what to expect with my second child, I’d start by saying: lose all your expectations. I’d tell myself it’s going to be different than it was the first time. My daughter is unique. She’s an individual, and that’s a wonder in itself. I’d also emphasize to past-me that parenting two is different than parenting one, and a heck of a lot more tiring. There’s more to learn, just when you think you’re finally starting to “get” this parenting deal.

A few weeks ago, I finally broke out of the not-the-Mama phase. My daughter wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss on my cheek. She told me she loved me. And my son ran over and hugged us both. One thing I knew to expect, and was right — the good times can be twice as good, and filled with twice the love.

Photo: © Evrymmnt / Adobe Stock.

The most frequent question I’ve heard from family and friends over the past month and change has been some variation of “How’s Emory adjusting to being a big brother?”

Nothing remotely related to how I’m doing, or how I’m adjusting to being a father of two. Just, “How’s Emory?”

But I digress.

The answer? It really depends on the day. Overall, he’s handled the transition to big brother status like any other 3 year old would. There’s curiosity in that he is unsure at times of who this new little person in his space is. There’s a combination of excitement and enjoyment in that he loves to tickle her and pull at her hands and feet and, in return, is tickled by her response, or lack thereof. And there have been hints here and there of jealousy. Especially in moments where the routine he’s enjoyed with my wife has now been interrupted by her having to nurse and give attention to his little sister. (Ed. Note: For tips on dealing with an older sibling being jealous of a new baby, check out this article on Very Well Family.)

In the midst of what has been an adjustment period for our family, there have been moments when my wife or I will be holding Eden, and Emory will come and calmly sit with us. And for those 30 seconds or so that he’s still, the reality hits us: We are a family of four. We have two kids now. That reality is extra special for my wife and I because we are both only children. In the stories of our respective lives, growing up with siblings was something neither of us had.

So, in this season of parenthood, we are not only learning how to raise two kids under the age of 3, we are living vicariously through them because they’ll experience a life we didn’t have. As their dad, I’m excited for them to have each other and to grow up together and hopefully share a close brother-sister bond. I always dreamed of having a brother or sister. And while that wasn’t in the cards for me, I’m grateful that my children will know what that feels like.

I’m also interested in seeing how I’ll handle some of the challenges that will surely come with having two kids. How will I deal with the fights and disagreements they’ll have when one of them doesn’t want to share? How will I make sure I’m giving each of them the right amount of attention? Will I discipline Emory differently than Eden? If so, how will that affect the other?

These are some of the things my dad didn’t have to worry about when raising me. These are things I didn’t have to worry about growing up. It was nobody but me. And my wife had the same experience. In seeking advice from our parents, this is the one thing they can’t speak from experience on. We’ll just have to figure it out. And yes, we have plenty of friends and family who are parents who grew up with siblings, but when my wife and I are in the house and we have two screaming kids running around, we’ll have to figure it out on our own.

Emory’s going to be a great big brother. I’m actually envious of him. As he figures out his new role, I’ll be right there with him, learning too.

Photo: © sonsedskaya / Adobe Stock.

I wanted another boy. 

I have no problem admitting it. 

Sure, no matter what we were blessed with, I would be grateful for and pray that he or she would be healthy. But another boy? That would’ve been music to my ears. And don’t get me started on the financial implications. I could just pass all of my 2-year-old’s clothes and toys down to his little brother and not have to worry about buying too many new things. Easy peasy.   

I even had a list of potential names written down. 

So imagine my reaction when my wife received the results of the blood work from her genetics testing that revealed consistencies with that of a female. 

A girl. We’re having a girl. I’m going to be a girl dad this December. 

It took me a while to wrap my head around that news.

For starters, this pregnancy sort of “snuck up” on us. My wife and I both grew up only children, so we definitely knew we wanted more than one child. It was just a matter of when. The “plan” was to get through the summer and my wife’s birthday in October before we really tried. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned this season is that God laughs at whatever plans we think we have. 

Life happens and here we are. 

As we prepare to go from a party of three to four, I’m experiencing a distinct difference in emotions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled beyond belief. But so far, the excitement I felt when I was getting ready to become a first-time dad, has been replaced with a mixture of concern, worry and anxiety this go-’round. 

Having gone through the process once, I sort of know what to expect out of the actual pregnancy. The doctor’s appointments, the physical and emotional changes my wife will experience and the birth itself. However, in the same breath, I know everything that needs to be done to prepare for baby girl’s arrival. And that’s what’s dominating my mind. I’m thinking about all the logistics.

And how much all of it’s going to cost? 

My friends who are fathers of multiple children have told me this is normal. They said not to worry too much because everything will take care of itself. Some of those same friends who have daughters also shared with me that in becoming a girl dad, I’m about to experience an indescribable love. 

It’s the anticipation of that love, along with the many great things others have described about having a daughter, that has put my worry about her arrival at ease — somewhat. Yes, I’m still worried about getting the nursery together. I still have a list of things we need to get done before December. I’m definitely looking at our budget to figure out how we will make two daycare tuitions work.

But I’m also thinking about the dances we’ll have together in the living room. Figuring out how to do hair. Reassuring her that she’s worthy after a heartbreak. Walking her down the aisle. 

The term “girl dad” became popular in the wake of the untimely passing of Kobe Bryant in 2020. In a conversation with ESPN’s Elle Duncan, Bryant said, “Be thankful that you’ve been given that gift because girls are amazing.”

So even though another boy would’ve been awesome, I’m thankful for the gift we’ve been given. I may be a bit stressed now, but it will be worth it once she gets here, when I’ll officially join the fraternity of girl dads. 

“It’s a Girl” photo: © Mangostar / Adobe Stock.

My 5-year-old stares at me, not really comprehending what this means. Unless it’s candy or a shot to my balls, he doesn’t have much use for it. But my 11-year-old son, he knows exactly what it means and his face falls.

“Dad …” he begins.

“No,” I say. “Don’t dad me. Don’t even begin to think I’m changing this. Your mom and I are going to see a movie and your sister is babysitting.”

“But …”

“No buts.”

He looks at me hard, and his lips go tight. But then he accepts it.

My wife looks wonderful today. She smiles in a way that she did before we had children. It’s more carefree, worry lines erased from a creased brow. In jeans and a T-shirt, she has never looked so beautiful.

Budget babysitting for parental playtime

We will be gone just long enough to see a movie. We have completed some test runs like grocery store trips for 30 minutes. The house wasn’t burned down by the time we came back. But that was only for a short time, and we were no more than five minutes away. This is her first big test and it will probably be OK. At this point, I’ll take a probably.

For the last 12 years, my wife and I have hobbled together date nights on a shoestring budget. You have to put in the amount that a movie costs, for dinner, and then throw 60 bucks on top of that for the sitter. I call it the date night surcharge. And for 12 years, we’ve paid it. We have cut dates short because we didn’t want to increase the surcharge. How much for an extra hour? A car payment, and a year’s worth of college tuition.

My daughter, Little Hoss, bounces around the living room. She’s almost grown up, she has told me a thousand times. She can handle it, she can control it. A jump from the couch to my chair, and I can hear a piece of wood break. Or, to be more accurate, I ignore that piece of wood breaking and pretend it didn’t happen.

I need this time with my wife. We need it. Things get frantic with a family. You have to run to practices, my wife has to work late, the water heater bursts in the basement. Some weeks, I give my wife a kiss on Monday morning and don’t see her again until Friday. So date night isn’t just something fun. No. Date night is a chance to forget that we have three money suckers that demand only the brand name Oreos. Those who babysit get the brand name; those who are babysat get saltines smeared with cream cheese.

You have your orders, follow them

I line all three kids up in front of me and give them the most dad speech I have ever given.

“Little Hoss is in charge. That means what she says, goes. Got it?”

“Yes,” they all say but Little Hoss says it with a lot more enthusiasm.

“That means if she says it’s time to clean up, you clean up. If it’s time for a snack, she gets it. Got it?”

“But, dad,” my son says. “What if an airplane crashes into our house and she’s stuck in the bathroom? Then the fire department can’t get in because she can’t answer the door. How are we going to get a snack then?”

This is what my boy does. He is trying to find a way to make this not happen like his sister is some sort of monster that wouldn’t give him a snack. So he makes up the worst-case scenario to try to get me to change my mind. But it’s not going to work. I’m going to do some hardcore hand-holding today with my wife and nothing is going to stop that.

“If that happens, you can get your own snack. And let’s be reasonable. Your sister is going to take good care of you.”

“No, she won’t,” he says.

“Boy, don’t push it.”

I grab my keys and my wife and I head to the door. I give one more reminder.

“Remember! Little Hoss is in charge!” I yell.

And softly, as if almost whispered, I hear my daughter respond.

“Suck it,” she says. And I’m pretty sure she is manically laughing.

I pause. This is going to end badly.

Fuck it, I have insurance. My wife and I leave for our movie.

A version of ‘Babysitting Little Brothers’ first appeared on Hossman At-Home. Fear of babysitting sister photo: © luismolinero / Adobe Stock.