March 10, 2009

Dear Cole and Owen,

I feel like I could write a children's board book about this photograph. It would go something like this: The other day I went for a walk with a good-natured bear and a surly rabbit and we saw lots of wonderful things and then we got cold and we came home. After five minutes. Thankfully, at the end of this month the weather has started to cooperate enough so that we have been able to take our maiden voyage in your double stroller. Your dad an I, being the responsible parents that we are, have been on a lot of reconnaissance missions with the two of you and your sister. We know enough by know to know that for every outing there has to be an easy exit strategy if things go south. And believe me, with three under two, it can go south fast. So, we've been out and about, taking walks, but also investigating how to withdraw (Admiral Mullen would do well to take a page out of our book, I'll tell you that!) and how to do so with great haste. Our walks have been soul saving for me. Getting out and moving with all of you guys is a salve for a bruised psyche battered by months of sleepless nights, screeching and continuous snow storms.

Owen, my lovely boy. Your ruddy round face reminds me so much of a soccer hooligan but you are such a gentle giant. You are calm and snuggly and an absolute joy. You laugh at all of my lame jokes, hold my hand when I need a little pick-me-up and your smiles look as though they will break your entire face. You can remind me of all of those things when I bail you out for drunk and disorderly conduct after a high school soccer match. You love (LOVE! LOVE! LOVE!) to eat and the reckless abandon that you unleash upon a spoon, bottle or boob reminds me so much of how much your father loves to eat and how he will tuck into a hot meal with relish. He has certainly passed down that appreciation to you. You are so close to rolling over, you are over onto your stomach already but you just can't figure out how to get that bottom arm out and around and this has frustrated you to no end this month. I am sure that by next month's letter I will be writing of your inevitable conquest of the back-to-tummy roll. The determination and doggedness with which you approach this task, and all tasks, will be something to behold in the years ahead.

Coley, you light up each and every one of my days. Your shrieks are completely over the top but so are your wonderful smiles. Your chubby thighs with rolls of fat perfect for chomping are a delicious way to start the morning. You have become quite adept at the grasping and you are a little bit of a hazard to yourself and others because you can grab things that are quite a surprising distance from your hands. Besides your Inspector Gadget-ness you are also quite good at moving things between your hands and you are always game to put something in your mouth. Your are our champion sleeper. Unlike your brother who needs to be fed at least once at night or he might just fade away into nothingness, you are often able to sleep 11 or 12 hours in a row and wake up smiling. Sure, you're hungry, but you're smiley and happy and ready to face the day. You are rather a social baby, you're the first to smile at someone when we're out and about and you long for that interaction. You have been the first to demonstrate signs of separation anxiety, fussing when I leave the room and stopping when I return. Your need to be around other people and your enjoyment of them will serve you well in the days ahead.

We started both of you on rice and oatmeal cereal this month. Shortly after your four month appointment which was well into your fifth month (planning is tough and I'm not willing to go to the doctor without your dad when you're getting shots (SHOTS!!! OW!!!!) so sometimes we have to push your appointments out a little bit) you became inexplicably ravenous and cranky. You would nurse all day every day for days (and DAYS AND DAYS AND DAYS AND YOU CAN PUT THAT ON MY TOMBSTONE) and it wasn't a growth spurt it was just ridiculous ad it was both of you and I thought that I was going to lose my mind and so (breathe breathe breathe) I started you on cereal. After a brief meltdown on my part where I got all uppity about sharing your food production with Gerber and I felt sad that the primacy of my role as your sole food provider was coming to an end I shoved a spoon down your throats and never looked back. You both love cereal. We tried the rice first and it was okay but then you started waking up a million times in the night and I thought that maybe the rice was causing it so we backed off of that and switched to oatmeal. That seems to agree with you better and you're chomping down several teaspoons every day at "dinner" time. You would eat a whole bowl of it I am sure if I let you but I don't. Because you also like milk. And if I keep making you lots of milk I can keep eating lots of chocolate and did you know those Cadbury mini eggs are in stores again because it is almost Easter and YUM YUM YUM . . .

I have had this feeling for a little while. A nagging and quiet feeling peeking into the forefront of my thoughts. I feel like . . . things are getting good. Really good. Sure, the last five month have been good. Great, magical, beyond special, but also excruciating, challenging, isolating, overwhelming, and need I go on? But now, somehow, things are changing. Loosening. Evolving into something really incredible. For the first time in a long time I feel like I can breathe again, several breaths in a row, without worrying about something. You are both so healthy, so alive, so wonderful, so obviously thriving. Six months ago when I was riddled with panic and apprehension about how to keep you healthy, how to keep you inside as long as possible, how to get though one more day in paralyzing discomfort, I never thought it would be this good. Five months ago when we were overwhelmed with your basic care, getting you to eat, nurse, sleep, stop the incessant crying, learn how to be happy, I never thought it would be this good. And now here we are, on the brink of spring, in the middle of the Lenten season with Easter just on the horizon and things are getting good. Really good.

Love,
Mama