3 months

Dear Daughter,

You are actually 3 months and 3 days old, as I type this. With Andrew, I typically had monthly update posts written in draft a day or two ahead of time, ready to click publish. And then off I went, with smug satisfaction, to eat a hot breakfast while I made mealplans for the week, right before I, ya know, exercised or something. Times have changed!
So, here are a few things about being 3 months old:
It's really a cute cute age. I know, how can I say one age is cuter than another? They are ALL so cute. But, I think 3 months really marks the end of the newborn-stage. I know, sad that that stage is over and all.. but now you smile and laugh a bit and are just generally more aware that you are ALIVE. You look at things and follow everything with your eyes and really just take it all in.
Your new way of laughing is just beyond cute. You open your mouth and make this 'huh huh huh' sound.. and sometimes we get a BIG hiccup of laughter. The louder we get, doing whatever we're doing to make you laugh, the louder you get. These magical moments end the same way 99% of the time. The volume level of the fun we're having intrigues your brother to come and say something like 'mommy? mommy?? mooommmmy?!?! guess what?? MOMMY??!'... wherein I am forced to break the moment with you to attend to the obviously critically important thing he has to tell me. 'Yes Andrew?'.. 'MOMMY! I found.. A HAIR!' Moment over.
Bathtime is still just the best time of day. Even if you are fussing prior to bathtime (which is more rare these days, thank goodness), you immediately become the smiliest most zen baby ever, in the tub. And the way you lock eyes with me the entire time? Heart MELTING. You look at me seriously the ENTIRE time, and I love love love it. And if I sing (bathroom acoustics make me sound so much less horrid), you smile so big. A wet smiley baby is just the best kind of baby, if you ask me. Other than a baby that's been sleeping 10 hours.. but that's asking for quite a bit.
You are so very responsive to us talking to you. You make this one sound quite a bit - a /K/ sound, but more.. raspy. You need more saliva in your throat to make it the right way.. I know this because I've told others to do the /K/ sound, and they do, but not quite right, and you don't respond to it the same way. I'm your mother, so I insitinctively know how to do this special raspy sound you love. It's what mothers do.
You smile so very big whenever we initiate conversation with you. And just today you did the BIGGEST belly laughs I've ever seen - I was holding both your hands and shaking them pretty wildly. So of course I go for the camera. Try to recreate the scene.. and.. nothing. I think it's a lesson I should learn better, to just live in the damn moment and forget about the camera sometimes.
You are also losing copious amounts of hair, which is par for the course for a 3 month old. I am also losing copious amounts of hair. So it's nice that we can share this little indignity together. I know yours will grow back beautifully, and as for me, I know I'll have some weird/cute little baby-hairs for a while.

You are slowly but surely starting to grab things.. although right now it's still a very spastic sort of raking motion to your mouth. I'll dangle a toy in front of you and you'll spazz for a moment, then slow your arms down to rake it towards your face.. maybe 50% of the time it makes it all the way. I know in a matter of just weeks you'll have this move down and be shoveling everything in your wake into your little mouth.
You nap about 3 or 4 times a day. Each nap is anywhere between 30 minutes to an hour. We haven't really gotten longer than that lately. You stay awake for roughly 1.5 hours between naps, but sometimes it's shorter than that. I can tell pretty well when you're going glassy-eyed and need to go back down again. Still swaddled. No regretting that! At night, you'll typically go between 4 and 6 hours for the first sleep stretch, then up to eat, then another 3-4 hour stretch. Then after that last stretch, you get to sleep in the bouncer in our room.. it's just our way of being super lazy at the end of the night and ensuring you sleep past 6am. Bouncer trumps crib every time. Some nights are good, others not so good...  last night being the latter, due to my poor decision to drink large amounts of Diet Dr Pepper late in the day (I thought it was caffeine free! I swears!)
You have lately gotten a little bit picky about your source of food. You've forgone the bottle, screaming bloody murder at even the scent of a fake nipple HOW DARE US???! And even with food from the source, you sometimes reject it, only wanting to be fed by me in bed, laying down side by side. Which of course, is just awesome and very relaxing, but not so conducive to life with a 3 year old, who has been 'plugged in' far more often than not because of recent life changes. It'll change in a matter of days though, I am sure.

See? That's the cool thing about 2nd children. Perspective. I admit, I do still get a tiny bit dramatic when we hit a difficult stage.. thinking it will surely last FOR-EVER, but I do have a small amount more perspective with you than I did with your brother. I know how the bad are all just stages.. which means the good are, too - so be grateful for ALL the good. All ebb and flow and whatnot, and you pull the rug out from under us all the time. We have to be on our toes, and it's wonderful. Your sweet little laugh makes any difficult stage so very bearable. :)

July

Here's a little juxtaposition (how often does one get to use that word?!) of my children. One is happy. Needing very little more than the dusty rotating blades of a ceiling fan to coax a gummy delicious smile from. Simply happy to be alive. And absolutely edible when in just a diaper. The other? Mad. Opinionated. Misunderstood (or so he'd claim). Very much the definition of ALL those 'been there done that' parents who have scared other younger mothers about '3 being the new 2'. THEY WERE RIGHT. Those two's were not so terrible, no, not at all. They were downright terrific. The 3's truly are a force to be reckoned with. Thankfully, he isn't the only child anymore, and I don't have the time to cater to his tantrums that happen when the wind changes. He gets the time-out chair. Or sent to his room. And 9 times out of 10, when told he has to leave my presence, he pastes on a fake smile and says 'I'm ready to act right now'. Ok, great. He can stay. Until 4.5 minutes later when the cycle repeats. Some days are veeeery very long. Some days are great though, and the tantrums are very minimal. He truly is a sweet child at heart, and I think a lot of the frustration comes from simply plain ol' boundary testing. He wants to see exactly how far he can push us (me) now, knowing our attention is split with a new little person in the house. And now that he can simply talk to us like a regular little person, with very little lost in translation, well.. he has opinions. On just about everything. But doesn't everyone? He's not a two-year old anymore, he's a little adult. A miniature grown-up with no concept of volume control and a propensity to tell strangers how big his last poop was. Oh, and also to tell strangers that he's sick, following a forced cough, successfully making me look like Mother Of The Year, for taking her sad, sick (but SO NOT) little toddler out into the world. Or, The Gap.
We like to say that our children are on opposing good/bad behavior years. For Andrew, birth to 1 year was good. (yes, exhausting and challenging, but cute babies really can do no wrong) 1 year to 2 years was a little iffy... particularly the last half of the year. LOTS of meltdowns and whatnot. Year 2 to 3 was AWESOME. Just cute and aiming to please and a sweet willing sponge ready to learn and give us kisses and hugs and high-fives. You see the pattern here? Alternating years. I am already betting my chips that Year 3 to 4 is going to challenge us. For HIM. But for her? We are going to totally rock the Year 0 to 1, because cute babies DO NO WRONG! So, we are just grateful that they are on an alternating schedule..  I am not sure we'd fare so well if they were both in the middle of 'off years'.

Sigh, it's not all public embarrassments and manipulative behaviors around here. There's baby back rolls. Lots of them. So, life isn't all that bad. We like to keep her in just a diaper (ok, I do. It's just me with the fat-roll obsession) as much as possible in the evenings, and I just.. gosh.. I want to EAT THEM. The thigh rolls are pretty juicy, too. She has one very noticeable extra roll on her left arm and left thigh.. not really sure what that is about. Perhaps my milk is settling more on her left side? She's got the trademark 2-4 month old bald-patch look going on, and I'm really shocked that I haven't followed suit yet. I remember beginning to lose my hair at the same exact time that Andrew lost his. I am sure I'm not far behind. Super sexy receding hairline, here I come!

 

2 Months

 Dear Daughter,
  You are now two whole months old. I'll say what ALL mothers to babies say, that I just cannot imagine life without you. Sure, I remember it. I remember it well - the daily luxury/mini-vacation of life with one (usually very well behaved) child. But I cannot imagine or comprehend life without you now. I cannot imagine a day without smelling your SWEET smelling head, rubbing my face on your soft-as-baby-bird-hair head. Watching you wildly pump your little legs the moment I lay you on your back, anywhere. Making you smile the biggest gummy smile, just by talking to you. Counting your leg and arm rolls.
Your two month birthday was not uneventful. The latter part of the day, at least. Naptime was not the greatest. You usually take your most substantially long nap around noon or so. THANK GOD your father was home (it being Sunday) because we had a doozy of a time. First, you decide to drop the mother-load of poop. It's one thing to hear a huge load being dropped, it's quite another when you hear that, and then a gigantic fart immediately following it. That precise combination of sounds only has one deadly result. BLOW. OUT. Yes, you farted the poop right up the back of your diaper. Leaving a poop spot on the bed sheet. And the mattress protector. Strip the bed. Nap-attempt take 2! Is not having it, so as a last resort (and usually very successful), we put you in the Ergo baby carrier. Your father takes you - you still IS NOT having it. So he unstraps you, and as he does this, you drop another load - of fresh baby barf, all over yourself and the carrier. Another load of laundry, second in one hour's time. We eventually get you to sleep, and all is well. UNTIL! Later that evening. We are all four being lazy out on the back-porch (we just got a canopy to provide shade - it's awesome).. when I hear the air conditioner turn on and then immediately off. This is a weird disconcerting sound. Your father checks it out - while I brainstorm what to pack for ALL FOUR OF US OMG in case it can't be fixed and we need to evacuate the premises. Love, if we didn't have you on our hands, we'd probably just sweat and be miserable and stick it out - but you and your inability to regulate body temperature left us no choice but to flee to Grandpa's house at 7pm. (which is what? Your bedtime.)
We unfortunately had to let you squawk for a good 10 minutes or so, while on your playmat, because your father and I were running around LIKE CRAZY packing up things, putting them in the car, and otherwise going insane all the while the temp rises a degree a minute it seemed (it being 101 outside!). As this was our first official overnight-away with you, I think we panicked a little too much and overdid it with the 'essentials'. You really didn't need your bouncer AND your playmat. Your heiney barely touched either, as it was being held by either Grandpa or Mamaw. You didn't need the baby bathtub we hauled over either. Despite the definite fact that you probably needed a bath, given the poop and barf explosions of the day. And those 20 diapers I brought? Probably overkill as well. So were the 10 outfits.. but I digress.
We got you upstairs and nursed/rocked you to sleep, and you did pretty well considering. You slept about 5 hours before waking up for a feeding. I actually think you did better than your brother, who slept across the hall (in Aunt Kelly's old room), because he conked out on the drive home the next day. Clearly he did not get as much quality sleep as you did! 
It was sort of surreal, nursing you in the room I grew up in. Looking around and seeing little remnants of my childhood/high school years, as I cuddled you close. Just a full circle, weird, crazy moment. ALSO weird nursing you at Mamaw's house. I took you to one of her bedrooms, and in true-Mamaw-form, the dresser was absolutely cluttered with nostalgia. Homemade frames, old pictures of us as kids. Many deceased family members. More full-circle moments.
It was a definite change of pace, this little air-conditioner mini emergency. Your grandpa, being the BEST EVER as usual, really hopped into emergency mode as well. Not ten minutes after hanging up with him to tell him we had to bunk up, he calls me from his cell phone, at Target, asking me what all he needed to get for us/Andrew. And without me even asking (because I had a hard time asking for anything, given how generous he was already being), he gets me decaf and caffeine free Sprite. His nursing daughter was QUITE pleased!! Not only that, but he puts Andrew to bed, buys our lunch, fixes his meals, takes him to the potty, changes your diapers, and then when we leave, packs us up a cooler of all the fresh fruit/whatnot he claims he won't eat himself.
So. Your two month birthday. Celebrated by packing up half the house to go stay at Grandpa's for less than 24 hours. Happy Birthday!!

Life these days

This is a post not entirely dedicated to either child - it's a rambling of what's been going on lately - wrapping up a post in a bow of organization and cohesive thought is just way down my priority list right now, so bullet-points it is!

* Andrew is pretty much an awesome brother. I always knew he would be. He does need to learn some normal boundaries, as most toddlers would, because his volume level when right in Avery's face is sort of frightening.. but still. I've gotten a little selfish sometimes by cootchie-coo talking to her in a lowered tone, because I know the instant he hears me he will come over and do the same. And then overstimulated-baby city! It's so sweet to hear him say 'kick those legs!!' or 'hi pretty girl! you're such a big strong girl!' or little things he hears me say all day long. He's so big on the positive reinforcement!

* Avery is just bulking up like crazy. Her wrist rolls are just so edible I can hardly stand it. Her cheeks are endlessly plump, and her upper thigh rolls are insanely cute. Her eyelashes are slowly coming in, and her eyebrows are also slowly starting to show some color. It's funny, I had a warped memory thinking that Andrew was born with his lush full set of lashes, but looking back at photos shows that he certainly was NOT. It took him several months. So Avery still has a great shot at those luscious lashes I am so jealous of! She certainly has the big eyes to carry them.

* Our sleep situation has been not so bad. The last few weeks have been pretty much the same, give or take. Avery will go her longest stretch of sleep for the first of the night, followed by several 2-3 hour stretches. And by 'longest', I'm talking anywhere from 3 to 4 hours. We've gotten TWO 5-hour stretches. Ever. And separated by two weeks time. Technically, according to google (?), the term sleeping-through-the-night is classified as 5 hours. Which is nuts, but in the interest of setting her up for success, I'll buy into it and say she's slept through the night twice! So, even though our every night is broken up into 2-3 hour increments, where I have to feed her/etc, we aren't that tired. We were total zombies when we went through this stage with Andrew. But I truly think it was just a first-time parenting thing.. we have been through SO many rough patches of sleep with Andrew over the last 3 plus years, that I guess we're used to things like this. Before Andrew, we most certainly were not. We have developed a tough (sleep-related) shell I suppose. Don't get me wrong, by about 8pm every night I am ready to CRASH. But getting through the day is pretty do-able. I am a bleary mess when she wakes up sometimes 3 times a night to eat, but I try to picture her as a teenager, rebelling and otherwise loathing us, and this gets me through.

* Avery has started to smile SO much lately. I have to really sweet talk her for them though. Like, all out 'whoooo's my pretty girl?? YOU ARE! whoooo's my sweet little girl?? coootchie coooo!' It's pretty sappy, but when I use the right tone at the right volume, and she's really locked in on my eyes, she smiles the sweeeetest little open mouth smiles I've ever seen. And sometimes she sort of makes a laugh-sound to back it up. Not a full-out LAUGH, but a 'heeeeehe' sort of soundtrack to her smile. And then, usually, right when I'm getting a good one, Andrew will come over and get all up in our faces and the moment is GONE!

* Andrew has taken to acting like how a pestering older sibling often does act. To me. When he asks for something, and the answer is no (or not yet) he'll taunt me. Scene: He wants to watch some Curious George. I say maybe later. He starts singing 'I wanna watch some Geeorge.. I wanna watch some Geeeeeorge...' I say 'You already got your answer'. He looks at me incredulously (and tauntingly) and says 'I'm just singing the George song!'.. and he continues this 'George song'. It's maddening sometimes! I ignore it usually.. but he does it in so many different scenarios! When he's done with his meal, and asks to get cleaned up, and I've got my hands full with 10 other things and tell him to please wait patiently, he'll sing the 'I wanna get cleaned up' song. It's akin to an older brother holding his finger a half inch from your forehead and singing 'I'm not touching you... I'm not touching yoooou!' In due time.

* A funny (yet stressful) story of one morning earlier this week: I had a dental appt early in the morning, and when I came back home (and Pablo left for work), I decided I needed to get us out of the house. Before we leave for the park, I ask Andrew to go potty (as usual, before we leave the house).. he says he already did go, and was pretty adamant about this when I argued with him, so I took him for his word, given that I was not home earlier. Off we go, and as usual, I have Avery strapped to me in her little sling. Which is cozy and sleep-inducing for her, but a little HOT for me in the morning sun. Within 5 minutes, Andrew says he has to pee. Since I have Avery strapped to me, and the potty in the trunk is under heaps of grocery sacks and a bazillion-pound heavy stroller, I tell him that it's a great time to pee outside! yay! Standing up and peeing is like the greatest thing EVER! How awesome!!! No. Hate. Stomping of feet and no way Jose am I peeing here outside are you off your rocker?!... I tell him there's no room in the trunk to go potty there. So he simply says 'ok then, let's just go home and pee.' CHILD. I just got your sister strapped to me, I am soooo not peeling her back out and in the car-seat so we can go home to PEE. So I relent and heave the stroller out and heave the child up, to pee. In the trunk. I heave him back down and tell him to go play. My vision is compromised (directly in front of me) because of the sleeping babe strapped to me, so, naturally, I spill his potty full of pee on my foot. I rinse my foot with the squirt bottle I keep in the trunk (ever the Girl Scout), and we continue our leisurely morning at the park. While I swelter from the previous exertion, and air my foot out. Just another morning in paradise!

* The hours of 4:00 to bedtime (7-8:00) are quite hairy. Avery is usually taking her last nap of the day, Andrew is usually either cranky from his nap or running around like a maniac, desperate for Pablo to get home and give him the physical outlet he needs. I am debating whether or not to cook or get last minute take-out. Also trying to catch up on the day's worth of housework that has inevitably piled up. Laundry to be dried/sorted/put away. Dishes - always endless dishes. Pablo gets home, I usually am feeding Avery, so I join them when I can. I hoover my food so I can start in on the chores. We trade off kids, depending on Avery's level of fussiness and who is succeeding the most at quelling it at that moment. I sometimes have a selfish evening and throw in a 10-11 minute long bath (hygiene ranks low these days), but usually I'll spend some one-on-one time with Andrew, because the day's events make that difficult, so I take advantage while Pablo is here to man Avery. The dishes and laundry sometimes get done during this short time span.. Then, bathtime and bedtime! Many routines to be followed, same every night. Needless to say, we will not be getting out and painting the town red during these hours anytime soon!

Life these days is rough, yes, but good. SO GOOD. I have come across so many random blogs and stories lately regarding hardships with babies, and it always makes me stop and count my blessings, for I have many of them. My babies are my world right now, as they should be, and they couldn't be any sweeter.

4 weeks

Dear Daughter,
It has been four weeks with you. And we have loved it. Yes, it's been overwhelming. Your little presence is becoming less little as each day passes. When you wake up hungry or gassy or with a dirty diaper.. we know about it. But my goodness, are you sweet. In my opinion, once the adrenaline-fueled haze of bringing home a baby wears off, and real life sets in, you sort of realize babies are tiny tempestuous dictators. But it's really not been the case with you! You really are a good baby. I sort of make up my own definition of what constitutes a 'good baby' (they are all good, of course).. but you just go with the flow so much. You are so content, 90 percent of the day. (the other 10% is always around dinnertime and bathtime, when our household is at it's most chaotic and frazzled) You look around, awed at the same walls in our house that you see every day. You sleep (this superstitious mama ain't giving ANY specifics!). You eat. You smile - just today I've gotten more smiles out of you than any other day... mostly by tickling your little round chin. Is there anything sweeter than a toothless grin?!? You stare into our eyes for minutes at a time. You roll with the punches. If I am feeding you, and your brother yells out something that requires my urgent attention (read: butt-wiping), you don't melt down when I temporarily unlatch you to tend to his needs. This happens pretty frequently throughout the day, so I am grateful that you are so flexible! You go in and out of your car-seat sometimes several times a day, without a fuss. In and out of baby-slings/etc, too. You're just so transportable!
I really am enjoying you, little one (or, Nugget, as your father has gotten in the habit of calling you). I remember this phase with Andrew, and while I also enjoyed him and his adorable-ness, I was just one big ball of stress. I was unsure of every move I made, googling like mad and asking everyone I knew about every little thing. I compared every milestone (never wise). I sometimes just wanted to fast-forward time so that I could leave him in a sitting position, so I could wash dishes (how very lame!) or fast-forward time so he could be sleeping longer stretches at night (sleep is for the weak!). I now want to press pause. I want to rewind time.. because this precious baby phase? It's seriously almost over. I know you're still only a wee 4 weeks old, but how fast has this month flown me by?! You won't be a little Nugget for long, and it does make me sad. I'm thrilled for what our future holds with you, but sad all at the same time. So, because of that, I'll just dine on your double-chin and not think of anything more. Each little moment with you, I'll appreciate.
Happy 4 weeks Nugget!

Firstborn

Dear Son,
It's becoming more and more evident that you are more of a mini Cooper than I ever knew. You see, almost 27 years ago, I was given the GIFT of a sister. At the time, I did not know she was a gift. Even though my memories of being newly three years old are pretty fuzzy, I vaguely recall feeling slighted and pretty pissed off in general. And if I ever need a reminder of these feelings, there is always the lovely home-movies shot during that time, forever recording my ear-piercing screams for attention - directly into my newborn sister's ears. In those movies, I now focus on my mother. She was solid. Patient. Absolutely ignoring my bad behavior and not rewarding it with positive attention. I don't know how she did this, because CHILD. You are that kid now. You are pulling out some stops for attention. And you are actively choosing to not listen - to the most mundane of requests. Mealtimes have a rough start and a rocky finish. You are still eating (knock on wood!) but most times you take an act of congress to get you TO the table, and by mealtime's end, you have either intentionally dropped things on the floor or wiped your sticky paws over the table or done some other thing to up the misbehavior ante.
I know, this is not THAT bad. Firstborns usually regress in some way. They typically cry out for attention in new fun ways. It's just that, well, I had some pretty rose-colored-glasses unrealistic expectations of you. You have (aside from those not-fun months of 18 to 22...) always been just so SWEET. So goooood. So weirdly untypically behaved. You never really questioned our authority or thought that doing the exact opposite of what we said was ever even an option. You made us very comfortable, son. TOO COMFORTABLE.
It's rough some days, with a newborn and you, and a husband who has been working very abnormally late hours. You don't seem to want to cut me any slack. Your love for me is quite conditional. If I manage to put your sister down for a nap, and instead of, you know, peeing or some other selfish activity, I sit down with you and read books.. well, you love me. If I choose to let you watch 2 episodes of Curious George instead of 14, you very much dislike me.

**********************************

The above was written several days ago. My how things can change!!! And still do. Things aren't back to normal. But will they ever be, anyways? Our 'normal' has been forever altered, I think, so my expectations of .. everything are going to be different now. You are such a sweet kid. And I could have inserted that anywhere above, too. I know that even though you've been testing our patience, you are still the cream of the crop. While you've been showing me more love (and respect!) lately, you still are very much on an emotional teeter-totter. This could be an adjustment thing, and this could be an 'age' thing, as well. No way to really know, but TIME.
Last night, something happened that I really was not prepared for (and you know I pride myself on being prepared for as much as possible). While your father and I were in the midst of a newborn screamfest, filing your sister's jagged nails, I came into the bathroom to get her bath ready. Lately, you have been LOVING the responsibility of washing your hands, all by yourself. I was ok with this, because you've never even TOUCHED the hot-water handle (and if you ever happened to, you'd surely call me to come deal with it once you realized it was even slightly warm) and because come on, it frees up SO much of my time! For a kid who loves to have clean hands, there's a lot of hand-washing goin' on, and if you can just do it yourself- by all means! ANYWAYS, so last night, I come into the bathroom and there's..  puddling. Everywhere. You have a very pleased happy face, as the faucet is running and you are using your cupped hands to transfer water from the sink to the toilet.. the tub.. the floor. Initially, I thought 'how freaking cute is this??!' because of how I never got to really experience walking in on a mess with you. You know how most moms turn their back and their baby/toddler is armpit-deep in the flour jar, or cereal box? Never experienced that. You simply never got into things. So, seeing this was sort of.. weirdly heartwarming? That feeling lasted a short span of a few seconds, and then I was just annoyed and irritated. I disciplined you (your sister's bath got scrapped, by the way) and you went off to your room, crying. Your father talked to you, you stopped crying, and you were no worse for the wear. Neither was the bathroom, as your father reminded my frustrated self that 'it's just water!' All that long story to say that I need to be better. Better at not expecting things to remain the same - that you'll stay out of the proverbial flour-jar forever. Or that you'll listen to us 100% of the time and obey us without question. Or that I'll get your love and cuddles whenever I ask for them. I know this new life of ours is going to be about getting through each day, for a while. Adjusting as necessary and the ebb and flow and all that.
But seriously, if you ever get in the flour-jar, your Curious George dvds are going to go mysteriously missing, so help me God!

Avery

Dear Daughter,

You're here! You came to us on April 26, 2011. You weighed 8 lbs 8 ounces, and were 20 and one-fourth inches tall. You did not close your eyes for the first two hours after your birth. Or so it seemed. Your eyes were blinking at a steady pace, just taking in the new world. Your round face and plentiful chins were the very first thing I noticed about you. I simply could not get over how ROUND your face was. Like a little moon. I loved seeing my mother in your precious round face. To say that seeing my mother in you hit me hard is quite the understatement. I noticed your very thick neck - the little newborn flesh/flab that stays in a roll around it is just the most delectable thing on the planet. I then noticed your head full of hair, just like your big brother had (and has). I noticed how you didn't have my slightly inwards-bent pinky nails (your brother does). And how you forgot to grow some eyelashes while in the womb! We won't show you how your brother's look like lush falsies.. you'll figure that out someday! You had the faintest hint of light brown eyebrows, too. The cutest, most reddest little chin. I noticed your LONG fingers and toes. I have little stubby toes, and your Aunt Kelly has what I call 'finger toes'.. you definitely have the same. You were so very red the first few hours of your life. All that crying just wears a gal out. It was so amazing to hear your little squawks.
I actually did not get to hold you for the first 15 or so minutes of your life. Your father did, though. I was being stitched up (yes, down there) and was too nauseated from all the meds and just everything, and I did not trust myself to have a steady grip on you. I don't regret this, simply because I got to hold you for almost 10 months! And, your father is a pretty great guy, so seeing him soak you up was not so bad. 
We eventually made our way up to post-partum, and settled in. Your father went straight out to Whataburger for some food - I was starving. It's all kind of a blur (as I write this, two weeks later), but I do remember that first night, and your many many poopy diapers. I remember being just shocked that such a little thing could go so much! I hope you hold that little gem of a memory close to your heart, daughter of mine, how I remember just how much you pooped the first night we had you. :)
Fast forward to life at home: It's been pretty darn nice. Just being a little family together. The time off from work that your father had was really much enjoyed and soaked up. We tried to remember so many little moments during that time, while we were all sort of still hibernating before returning to reality and the everyday grind. It's still a little hard to say with any real confidence how your personality is. You're only two weeks old, you know. You cry if you're overstimulated (mostly when we have visitors who you're ready to get out of the house), you cry if you have poop, and you cry if you're hungry. All pretty standard! You are a great little eater, as today's doctors visit proved - you now weigh 8 lb 11 oz (up 1 whole pound from last Saturday's jaundice check when you weighed 7 lb 11 oz!) and you've grown a quarter inch. You sleep a lot. You are having more alert times during the day, which is nice. You smile sometimes when you're awake - and I know this sounds silly, but I think it's more than just gas! I think you love to show me your right-cheek dimple. :) 
Your brother adores you. This is so very clear all day long. He always wants to just hold your hand. And he alerts me the second he thinks he smells "something stinky", or if he sees that your pacifier fell out. Or if your head flopped forward in the car-seat (as it did once this weekend). He was a bit of a handful the first few days we came home with you, but I know this is quite normal, and we still got off easy (the adjustment period is far from over though!). He wants to see you first thing in the morning, every morning. He wants to make sure you're asleep when I say you're napping (whispering VERY loudly to 'be quiet!!'). I think he's going to be a huge help in the long run, and a fabulous big brother to you. It chokes me up, getting to sit on the couch sometimes, holding you in my left arm and my right arm around him on the other side. Sure, this is a little bit of residual hormones, but mostly it's not. It's really realizing how BLESSED we are. To have two beautiful, healthy, wonderful children to raise and grow into little adults. To actually know that God thinks so highly of us to entrust us with you two, and to make sure you grow up to be kind, decent people. I have no clue what we did (or have yet to do) to deserve you two, but I'll take it and just be grateful. It's really mind-blowing. 
 
I think you're going to fit in just fine here, kiddo. I love you and your precious round face.