Having a child changes your life irrevocably. Having a second just might end it.

I know, I know, there are probably a billion people out there who have more than one child, so I'm definitely on the whiny side here. Still, it's a bit discouraging to discover that a second child has changed my life even more than the first one did.

Having a young child makes it difficult to spend long evenings away from home. Checking out the latest cool band down at the club? Out. Hitting a movie every week or two? Difficult. A leisurely romantic dinner? Fine, but don't expect the romance to flow quite so freely once you get home.

All of that stuff is annoying, but to be honest, you're just too tired to notice it most of the time. Now, let's look at what a second kid does.

Getting up and out the door in less than two hours? You've gotta be kidding. Enjoying some family time at a restaurant? Unlikely; if one of the kids is good, the other is a hellion. A good night's sleep? Even if the new baby is cooperative, the old baby won't be.

I'm not complaining. Really. Our son Sam is about as good a baby as there is. He wakes up only once in the middle of the night--almost always around four--and stays up after that feeding only about once a week. Sam cries when he wakes up and when his diaper needs changing, but otherwise he's a pretty even-keeled kid. He's eating like a horse, and, in fact, resembles a Clydesdale more and more every day. Like I said, he's great.

And our older son Max is also pretty good. His potty training regressed slightly for about a week after Sam was born--he peed in his pants four or five times--but at this point he barely even looks at his potty and is pretty much all toilet all the time. He loves Sam and is very considerate of his younger brother. And apart from the usual almost-three-years-old monstrous temper tantrums, he, too, is fairly even-keel.

But these two good kids don't have the same schedules. And they don't like to do the same things. The one need they share--attention--is the one thing they are unwilling to share. But worst of all, they have infinitely more energy than their parents.

I'm the stay-at-home dad, but Barbara is home until mid-April. This is really great for things like breast-feeding and taking care of the kids when I have to get out for various early-evening meetings (neighborhood board, political rabblerousers, etc.). But it isn't easy sharing a house during the day with another adult. Not to mention an adult who feels free to put all sorts of demands on your time--demands that seem almost incomprehensible to someone who up to now has had pretty much free reign on his schedule. There's a reason I don't believe in retirement.

Barbara and I met more than 15 years ago. We've been married for nine. We know each other pretty well. And yet, this second dose of 24-hour close quarters has produced some surprises. For example, I had no idea she really cared much about my wardrobe. Now she wants me to clear every single purchase with her. Maybe the day-glo green wool slacks were a bad idea. But they were on sale, man, and they look really...green.

Five years ago, there were just two of us working jobs whose hours didn't match. Not great on a one-on-one level, but it did leave lots of free time for fulfilling personal interests. Now there is no time for that. I have to scrimp and save for a couple minutes of "me" time each day. Five years ago I read at least three books a week. I'm lucky to do three a month now. And my brain has turned to goo. I haven't had a creative thought in ages. I'm sure that will return, but I'm not counting the days.

I'm not one of those Pollyanna freaks who chirps, "It's tough, but it's all worth it." I do think having kids is one of the most rewarding things you can do, but that first year of life is not. Parents give and give and give to little babies, and the returns dribble out awfully slowly. Now that Max is almost three, it is much easier to see near-immediate results--and, more interestingly, the upside of all that work we did a couple years ago--but with Sam we'll just have to give and wait. And, in truth, it's difficult to give as much to the second child. After all, the first child still needs love and attention. Each of us has only so much attention we can bestow on other people. When you're talking about preschool kids, quantity time is just the same thing as quality time. Simply allotting the time is exhausting. Doing the time can be backbreaking.

Luckily, it seems people are equipped to produce love in as large a quantity as is necessary. Love just seems to arrive when it's needed. We love Max as much as is possible, but once Sam arrived, we found we could give him the same amount without taking any away from Max. That discovery kinda makes up for all the exhaustion, frustration and brain damage of having child #2.

Having a second child is an addition. Creating the love for that child is more like multiplication. Call it the power of two.

Jon Worley isn't always this sappy, but he's had three colds and twenty-five hours of sleep in the last week.