Three Months, Three Days

Probably no surprise that I'm late to commemorating the big Three Month Mark.

Three months ago we set out on a journey we shall never forget. We brought THEM home.

Right before this photo was taken a woman stopped dead in her tracks in front of me in the lobby of the hospital and just kept saying "Oh My God, Oh My God." I was like WHAT??? This woman could not take her eyes off the babies. Twins. This was just the beginning and my first introduction into the world's fascination and interest in, dum, dum, dum: TWO BABIES AT ONCE.

Anyway. Three months feels momentous somehow. Maybe because my friend Lisa is teasing me that three months signals an end to what she lovingly calls "newborn hell."

Oh I kid. It hasn't been that bad.

Ahem.

And besides, since we've been here before (sort of, with one baby anyway) I know that it gets better. Tons better. And hey, it's not so bad right now. If only we could drive ten blocks without poor Hair Man falling apart into shrieks of hysteria.

Oh Hair Man (this phrase is probably spoken a dozen times a day, whether he's soiled another bib or showered spit up onto the hardwood floors or just gone bat shi* crazy on a short drive home from Costco. That Harry. He has a hard time. Except when he doesn't. When he smiles at you with his gigantic chocolaty brown eyes, Eyes that are so dark and huge that you can barely see the whites. He adores the changing table (or maybe he just hates wearing pants?). Put him on that table and he dances a little jig and boogies and just comes alive with gleeful smiles. He can chill in his swing for a long time if given the chance. Until he's done. Then he lets you know. Oh does he let you know. But he's also starting to "talk" with that sweet little cooey voice that babies his age have.

I've decided he's just a homebody. He hates the car. Not a huge fan of going places. He does love fresh air and the outdoors. He sure knows how to clear an aisle at Target or Walmart but the minute you take him out of the store and into the parking lot? Silence.

Maybe he just hates shopping.

Then there's Lucy.

Luce. Also known as Pinky Tootenpants (that's Toot-in-pants). Grandpa Rog came up with that moniker. I'll let you guess why.
She's a charmer, that one. She's the quiet one. Little Miss Mellow. Case in point: Thursday was Ellie's annual physical. Since Erin's been home all week on vacation, I saw no reason to drag all fifty children to the pediatrician's office (always a fun time). So we divvied the load. Erin took the boys (stayed home) and I took the girls. We made good time at the doctor's office and since there were tumbleweeds and crickets in the refrigerator, I decided it would be a good afternoon to go to Costco.

I am not kidding you when I say Lucy didn't utter a sound the entire time. It was weird enough being out with one baby (by the way NO ONE paid any attention to us, I felt like such a nobody out and about with just ONE BABY, I mean, how boring!). In addition to the the fact that I felt a little bit like I'd left my right leg at home, I also kept feeling like I forgot someone. Did I leave a baby in the car? On aisle three next to the gigantic jugs of salad dressing?

Lucy is quiet, but she loves to smile. And laugh/giggle/coo. She's just very much "in the world" and she has been for some time. I man this in the way that newborns, when they first arrive seem to spend the first month still gestating. But Lucy, she opened her wide eyes and looked around very early on (for a long time we joked that she didn't blink, that's how wide her gaze is). She's also the smallest and most delicate of any baby we've ever had. She has the teeniest little feet, especially.

Lucy fights sleep in the day, she is that baby who doesn't want to miss a thing.


This picture makes me laugh. It looks like Harry is about twice the size of Lucy. He is a lot bigger. Hmm, I wonder if it's because he eats ALL THE TIME? Perhaps. Hey, he comes by his love of eating honestly. I can't blame the guy. Nor can I resist his Popeye wrists and arms or his thigh-sized cankles, I mean ankles. He's going to be a fun one to feed solid food to. I envision pureeing steaks and whole chickens for him. He's that hungry. In addition to Hair Man, we also affectionately refer to Harry as "Bruiser." Lucy is also known as (probably no surprise here) "Peanut."

Three months. The whole summer. On the one hand, it feels like a long time. Believe me when I say there have been some long days and some even longer nights. But at the same time, these are the last babies we'll have in this house (sniff!), so I know better than to want to rush these precious, arduous, maddening, absurd, yet glorious baby days. I have never been this tired in my life. When I fall into bed at night my body just quivers with exhaustion and winces knowing in two or three hours I'll be up again.

Lucy and Harry, three days old.

It's amazing to stare at these two little people and think that we haven't always known them, that they haven't always been a part of our little family.

And so we've decided to keep them.