Sunday, July 22, 2012


I write this from my desk chair, watching a fuzzy headed baby boy fight sleep in his cradle swing. He's swaddled, rocked, and has a fan by his head for white noise. And yet, I can't keep him asleep for more than a few minutes unless he's in my arms. And even then... So much gas. So many burps. An infant's digestion has more emphasis on his sleep and waking habits than anything else. And by anything else, I mean a harried mama, hushing a toddler or creating a perfect sleep environment.

In other news:

6 weeks.

He's sweet, and kissable, and so chunky. We're falling in love with him more and more, probably because he's screaming less and less.

(Uh, oh. He got his left hand out of the swaddle.)

He looks so much like his brother, but with all that brown hair, he's his own little person too. He's starting to smile at us, and coo, and it's the sweetest little sound.

(That left hand is trying its best to wake the little guy up.)

He has a chronic stuffy nose and grunts and snorts all night long. Mama doesn't get much sleep.

(Asleep, awake, asleep, awake. It's stressing me out. And now, a little cry.)

Just more settling in. Getting used to this and this and this. A new schedule-- or a lack of one. A baby next to us at night. A slightly jealous (and who would blame him!?) toddler. A dada with a sprained ankle. And on and on. It's not everyone's version of chaos around here, but it sure is mine. Just trying to settle into it; embrace it until I can change it.

(He's awake for good, I think. Insert sad face here. That dang left hand. Gonna go wrap him back up and try again.)

Friday, July 6, 2012

life, presently.

Oh, goodness. Where do I even start?

Maybe I won't begin at the beginning, which was last Monday, when Jeremy went back to work. 

Maybe I won't even begin with this morning, which was a late one for us, although we were all up before seven.

Maybe I won't begin even now, where one boy is asleep in the motorized cradle about 15 feet to my left, head turned awkwardly, which happened when I placed him in the swing. He was-- is-- in too deep a sleep to notice. The other one is upstairs and (I presume) still refusing to take a nap.

I don't even think I'll start at tonight, when Jeremy comes home and takes up the slack where Elias is concerned, providing some daddy horseplay while I hold the baby and warm up the meal someone-- a very wonderful someone-- just dropped off for us.

Maybe I'll start a few months from now, when the brutal heat has abated, and the frantic newborn stage is finished. When the toddler and the baby have become more friendly, and my body is more my own again. When we will be getting ready for a second birthday party and reminiscing about the last year...

No. Let's not do that either. Lets go back to today: the present. When my little boys are as little as can be. Fighting sleep. Both wanting "up". Diapers that need to be changed, and little mouths that need to be filled. Elmo on the television, and a nursing pillow on my lap. All of us waiting impatiently for Jeremy to come home in one hour and 54 minutes. A noisy fan in the background and a brown yard just outside the window, which I can see from my chair from where I type this. Laundry that needs to be folded, and a house that desperately needs a top-to-bottom cleaning. A toddler, still upstairs in his crib, still refusing to sleep, squealing loudly for mommy.

It's good and it's hard and it breaks my heart. It is a very full time.