I Have the Cutest Boys

Dad makes the coziest pillow.

This is an interesting picture: his shirt says "Handsome just like Daddy," yet he's wearing Mom's shoes. With such intense fashion choices, who has time for pants?

Yesterday we spent a lot of time bundled up outside in the newly-freezing weather and Jack worked up a powerful hunger; his bowl is to the left with just tomatoes left. Once he was finished with what was in his bowl he decided life was too short to do things like serve himself an individual portion and went straight for the pot. For those of who might consider it poor parenting not to make him use his own bowl I say: clearly you've never had a two year-old. When he eats, you go with it.

Matteas' Baptism

On Sunday we had Matteas baptized. He was an angel, sleeping peacefully all through Liturgy until the actual immersion when he suddenly howled with indignation that his nap had been interrupted. After Liturgy we had a lot of family over to our new(ish) house for a party. We had lots of hot coffee, good punch and tasty food, of which there are no pictures on account of it being so quickly devoured. The living room was rather crowded, so my sister Moira and I took refuge in my room to nurse our babies, and Matteas and Adam had some fellowship.

Okay, so I know I'm biased but I think Aaron looks so handsome in this picture. I find it especially sexy that his wedding ring catches the light a little.

Pillow Talk

Sometimes, a boy just needs to spend some time with his father. For Matteas, that time was around midnight. He had eaten, been changed and burped, and still he wasn't content. I tried holding him in different positions but was agitated and kept grunting in frustration. Finally Aaron took him from me, held him close to his face and asked "Do you just need some fellowship?" Matteas instantly settled down and though he remained fairly animated, it was an engaged, content sort of animated and not the grumpy goat routine he'd been giving me. As it turned out, he really did just need some fellowship. They talked for a good half hour before Matteas was satisfied enough to go to sleep. He is quite the social baby, and if we're in bed and the light is off but he feels like talking he gets VERY unhappy and will squirm and grunt until I turn on the light and sit him up so he can see me. He really likes being talked to and able to make eye contact, which is all very sweet unless it's three o'clock in the morning and we've been talking for an hour and I can no longer see straight. Currently, Matteas is curled up like a little kitty cat on Aaron's chest sleeping, which means I should get in bed and get as much sleep as I can before Matteas feels the need for a chat.

You know how hungry babies will try to nurse on anything when they're really hungry? Teasing Matteas is one of Aaron's favorite games.

I think Matteas looks suspicious of Jack, as if he someone knew that just a few days after this picture was taken, Jack would drop him on his head.

I think I need a wide-angle lens to take pictures that don't make his nose look bigger than it is. Granted it's pretty large, but it really doesn't translate well into a two-dimensional image.

So, this sleep-deprivation thing is getting really old. Matteas isn't quite four weeks old and since he's been born I've had the stomach flu and two colds, the second of which began this morning. I really, really love my babies, but sometimes motherhood sucks. Sucks big time. I understand why so many moms freak out after having a baby; it's identity-crisis inducing. After Jack was born I experienced something I'd only read about before, that weird moment when you catch a glimpse of some poor disheveled woman and think to yourself "Wow, she has really let herself go..." and then you realize that the poor disheveled woman you are pitying is your reflection. Dammit. Do I really look like that? That's not my body; that CAN'T be my body. PLEASE GOD LET THAT BE SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY! The outside is different, the inside is different, your brain chemistry is different, your hormones are different, the functions of your body are different(moo...), your sleeping patterns(patterns? what patterns) are different, your lifestyle is different, your identity forever changed because no matter how many kids you had before, now you have another one. It occurred to me the other day as I thought about my life before and after children that becoming a mother is in many ways like committing suicide, but not in a morbid way. More like reincarnation I guess, and I find this challenging. Some of my thoughts, feelings, ambitions and attitudes don't belong to Motherhood, but on the other hand change is hard. Really hard. It's disorienting. And the more I do it the more I find myself wondering: who am I becoming? I knew myself before, but this creature who is presently emerging and still very immature is a stranger to me, and I'm not quite comfortable with strangers. The result, for now, is that I have this nagging homesick feeling only there's no particular home I'm missing, no place I can go that will bring relief. It's not a physical place I miss, it's feeling comfortable and content within myself and with my place in the world. Grounded. Stable. Normal. Luckily, I and many others before me have been through this before and I know I will come out on the other side better and stronger, and that someday I will even sleep again. Not for a long time, but someday.