The difficult second album 

I have heard musicians say the second album is always the hardest – especially if their first album was an out and out hit! Everyone loved it. Everyone bought it. Everyone raved about it! How do you follow that up?

A few friends have remarked in the past at how great my first baby was. He sleeps how long?! Yep. He took a bottle straight away when you stopped breastfeeding? Yep. He would jump in the jumparoo for hours happy as Larry before falling asleep? yep. He was never ill? No trips to the doctors?! He entertained himself? He was happy with anyone? He never cried about your absence? He smiled from morning to night. As long as he was full he was happy. A fat, happy baby chap.

Completely laid back – just like his dad.

I could see some friends were slightly bitter “your second will be the devil” they joked. Well… I’m now wondering if a Jackal was in that operating theatre and the cesarean was all a ruse! (Omen reference, in case you were wondering).

Look – he started off great. But as the months have rolled on the differences between him and his brother are starting to rise to the surface.

Unlike his brother – being full is not a ticket to happiness for him. He cries much more. He cries all the bloody time. Unlike his brother everything that his dad and I do just fails. I have never felt such frustration and I’ve never seen his dad so confused “why won’t he stop crying?! Why why why why?”

“What do you want from us?!” 

He’s not an entertain himself type of boy, even at three months I can see that. I can also see he’s more needy! A type of needy our first born never was. He has to be able to feel me or see me to be happy. I can already tell he has attachment to me – whereas my first son has never given two shites where I am!

Our first son would sit in a bouncy chair staring at the cat for two hours with a great big goofy grin on his face. Our second born barely goes three seconds looking at anything before he starts screaming to be picked up.

It sounds ridiculous saying this about a baby – but mothers instincts and all that – I feel he will be more anxious than our first son.

Now before the fun police jump on and say “oh my lord you don’t love your baby! You’re playing favourites.” Of course we bloody love him. But you ever get a cat? And the cat was cool? And you think ooh lets get another cat? And the second cat shits all over the c#nting place? Well that’s an analogy that might work.

After the birth of him I often cried that he was our last – but after so many nights now of non stop screaming and worry … I feel perhaps he was what we needed to know in our guts that two children is more than enough.

I also really can’t complain about him – because deep down I know that my first son is my partner’s – calm, cool, laid back, a winner.

And I know my second born, who I adore, my difficult second album, is my son, entirely Me.

Poor sod.

Second born – we love you more than you’ll ever understand. Absolutely in love with you – but thanks for reassuring us that we can’t cope with more than you and your brother.

You’re not that difficult of course – it’s just your brother was so flipping easy and it’s all relative.

I get the feeling it’s my quirks you’ve inherited and I’ll spend my life making you realise how they aren’t a hindrence and we can both be in awe of how chilled out your older bro is.

If you like this post please come and find me at my new blog –

and my Facebook page – Mummy’s Writing, Darling

Twitter – @sivitersteph


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