Check out Thing 1's eyes....
His lashes are utterly wasted on a boy.
Seriously... he kills me.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Here He Is!
Our new little munchkin was born Christmas Eve...
This is the only picture I have on the computer right now... maybe more later. But there they are, Thing 1 and Thing 2.
Doesn't Thing 1 look cute and innocent? Doesn't Thing 2 look totally weirded out? I imagine Thing 1 will receive this look a lot in his life.
Anyway... we're all doing quite well. Thing 2 is healthy and perfect... well, slightly gassy and sleepless right now, but other than that - perfect.
Life with 2 is sorta surreal (but nice). I feel sometimes like I'm outside my body watching my toddler throw things on the floor while I try and settle the screaming infant. Then there's now... Thing 1 is finishing his afternoon nap and Thing 2 is settled nicely in the crook of my arm, snoring while I type. Maybe the sound of the keys soothes him.
Anyway, while we are all physically healthy, my mental health may be precarious. I swing wildly between "Will you please stop throwing things/screaming/biting/spitting up/climbing into the dryer?!?!?!?!" and "Aw, what beautiful boys I have to cuddle/snuggle/play with/teach/protect/watch grow/make laugh/and love."
Then my husband sends me an email telling me how much he loves me and the UPS man finds me crying. Ha.
This is the only picture I have on the computer right now... maybe more later. But there they are, Thing 1 and Thing 2.
Doesn't Thing 1 look cute and innocent? Doesn't Thing 2 look totally weirded out? I imagine Thing 1 will receive this look a lot in his life.
Anyway... we're all doing quite well. Thing 2 is healthy and perfect... well, slightly gassy and sleepless right now, but other than that - perfect.
Life with 2 is sorta surreal (but nice). I feel sometimes like I'm outside my body watching my toddler throw things on the floor while I try and settle the screaming infant. Then there's now... Thing 1 is finishing his afternoon nap and Thing 2 is settled nicely in the crook of my arm, snoring while I type. Maybe the sound of the keys soothes him.
Anyway, while we are all physically healthy, my mental health may be precarious. I swing wildly between "Will you please stop throwing things/screaming/biting/spitting up/climbing into the dryer?!?!?!?!" and "Aw, what beautiful boys I have to cuddle/snuggle/play with/teach/protect/watch grow/make laugh/and love."
Then my husband sends me an email telling me how much he loves me and the UPS man finds me crying. Ha.
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