Two's Company

I really should be napping. Both children are sleeping, which I've already learned involves a lot of luck and certain stars to align. And I'm pretty sure that if I gave it a go, I too could easily be out like a light. But I know that before giving into sleep, I'd be tossing restlessly, plagued by guilt for shirking my Little Grey House duties. There's much to write about these days, if only I had the time, energy, wherewithal, a massage, a decent meal, a hot cup of coffee...

As it turns out, Theo at six weeks...


Is Esmé at six weeks.


I've gone and given birth to the same child. Only 2 lbs heavier and with different plumbing and a tad more hair. It is striking how much they look alike. In those early, hazy days I'd look down at my boy during some late-night feeding and say, "Oh Esmé, sweetie, you must be hungry!" I guess this is only the beginning of those sort of mix ups. By the time they're teens, I'm sure I'll be doing it all the time. I can only hope that they'll be sleeping through the night by then.

And Esmé is doing so well and has decided that being a Big Sister is serious stuff and by assuming said role she is obligated to face all her fears and dispense with them one by one. Sheep? No longer scary she tells me. Of course, I'm not exactly clear on what made them scary to begin with, but at last they've made the cut. Hair washing? No problem, Mommy, Daddy, I'll just close my eyes. And she does, and this chore is worlds easier than it was, but that's not to imply that it still isn't fraught with a certain degree of drama. Suffice to say, though, she's trying and I give her props for that. On her own, without any encouragement from me, she's gone potty by herself, meaning without even telling me she had to go she took herself upstairs, pulled the stool up, her pants down and did what she needed to where she was supposed to do it. "Are you so proud of me, Mommy?" she asked me after informing me of this milestone. Sure I am, but aren't you supposed to be regressing, not progressing?

And we have had our moments, trust me. Not so much of regression. Just a heightened sensitivity that leads to over reactions at times. A little more drama. She's stepped up the requests for band-aids. That sort of thing. But I am soooo proud of her. She is handling this transition so well and in doing so making my transition into mother of two so much sweeter.



And Theo is doing his part as well. He's a sweet little baby. Not a big crier. Has his own way of letting you know what he needs. He burps easily. Doesn't spit up much. And nothing induces sleep quite like his warm little body nestled on your chest. Speaking of sleep, Theo is a noisy little sleeper. Our nights, when not spent tending to him, are filled with his grunts and growls, spurts and sputters. I know this is normal and recall Esmé doing the same. Theo, however, has raised the bar on this newborn particularity. He is noisy beyond compare and I pity his future college roommate wherever (and in whatever crib) he may be now.

And with that, I should go rest. Only Theo is squawking now and Esmé is riffing on Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star. Oh well.