January 10, 2009

Dear Cole and Owen,

A lot of people told us that the first twelve weeks were the worst. I looked toward week twelve as a beacon of light in a dark dark world. We are past twelve weeks now and while I wouldn't say that morning has broken, I think we can see a hint of pink on the horizon. Way out there on the horizon. Like if we're on the eastern most tip of Maine, it is morning in London. But, I digress . . . You don't sleep through the night. You don't go more than three or four hours without eating. You don't really self soothe. You don't take regular naps. And you completely eschew any idea of a "schedule." But, you smile. You laugh. You look in mirrors. Sometimes you smile at us when we go to get you after your "nap." (I put that in quotes by the way because as of late you have kind of given up naps so it is more like your mandated sentence in your crib-jail.) You kick and punch and one day soon you'll roll over. So, yes, the first twelve weeks were hard and the sun is rising slowly.

We attempted a couple of outings as a family this month with mixed results. Your Auntie Lizzie wanted to take us all out for a celebratory Last Supper before she left us to go back to her fancy professor job. We decided on Bertucci's and a Tuesday night thinking it would be close, quiet and easy. Besides, we had one adult for each child. How hard could it be? We liquored you up (with milk, don't worry - although the though has crossed our minds) and put you in your car seats thinking that you might just sleep through the whole soiree. Mais no, monsieur. You had other ideas. Whether it was the bright "mood" lights of Bertucci's, the dozen little old ladies who just had to peer in at your scrumptiousness or something else entirely, you woke up the minute we walked through the door. A long wait, coupled with an overactive thermostat and restaurant aisles that clearly weren't meant for families with THREE children under 20 months all added up to rather a disaster. Lizzie had NONE of her dinner, I had a couple of bites and your dad? Well, he managed to scarf down most of his meal. Doesn't like to miss out on food does you dad. We made a hasty retreat with me carrying Sarah and Cole together and Auntie and Daddy portering Owen and all of our uneaten kibble. Oy. We'll try again when you're like, three.

This month we also had your baptism. Planned in advance for a time when all of your godparents would be present and accounted for, the north east weather had other ideas. A massive storm blew in the day before dumping mountains of snow. And then it continued throughout your baptism day. While your Aunt Caroline and Uncle Scott weren't able to make it, we did have lovely representation from your Grandma, Grandad, Auntie Lizzie, Uncle Chris and Auntie Jill. A skeleton crew perhaps but one with a purpose. Team Baptism weathered the Brattle Street hill in style and slid into Saint Agnes just in time to disrupt the quiet and grace-filled baptism of another little girl. Her family was more than gracious about sharing the spotlight. With snow blowing outside, surrounded by people who love you and in the prayers of dozens of others who couldn't make it, a little water was sprinkled on your head and your journey began. It couldn't have been more perfect.

Do you have any new tricks? Let's see . . . both of you smile and giggle. You prefer to sleep on your stomachs (gasp!!) than your backs. This is only done during supervised naps, don't worry. You love the Gymini and laugh at all of the silly animals. You seem to adore your big sister and always have a smile for her. You are working SO hard to find your thumbs which we are encouraging every step of the way. We don't want to manage pacifiers for much longer so if you can find some appendage that you will always have with you to suck on, that would be great. You've been Edward Scissorhanding yourselves quite a bit lately so you're all scratched up which is a little bit pathetic. Sometimes I have to laugh at you though, I mean, really, how in the world do you not know that you have hands?

Your dad and I, both being engineers by training, default to that mentality when it comes to your sleeping. We feel as though you must be programmable while at every attempt you prove to us that YOU. ARE. NOT. MACHINES. Whatever, we keep trying. We make charts. We plot progress and backslides. We analyze the data to try and figure out ways to keep you asleep for more than four hours at night. We have all kinds of data: milk consumption, ounces, minutes spent nursing, pillow position, room temperature, swaddling method . . . I am not joking. And every night we go to bed thinking, this must be it. We've hit upon the golden combination tonight that will keep you in dreamland so that we can get at least three sleep cycles. And every night we're wrong. We've been wrong for over ninety nights. Cole and Owen: 92. Mom and Dad: 0. I expect things to change, because tonight? Tonight we're going to analyze how the directionality of your crib and the angle of the streetlights impact the longevity of your sleep. Results to be published next month.

You are both closing in on 14 pounds I did some math and I have produced about 50 GALLONS of milk to feed you beasts since you were born. That's ridiculous. You two are certainly strapping boys. You are firmly in 3-6 month clothes now which has expanded your wardrobe considerably. You have a number of matching outfits in this size grouping so we've been neglecting the Cole = blue, Owen = other in favor of identical duds for a couple of days. I must say, you sure look cute. And you couldn't look more different in my eyes. Everyone told me that this would happen but I didn't believe them. Guess I'm getting better at this whole twin mom thing after all.

It is truly incredible how two little people who have the same birthday, blood type and DNA can be so different. It is gratifying and exciting to see your personalities change and diverge. O-ster, you continue to be more mellow, you love to eat and lounge around. You spend more time in the upright chair because you like to see everything that is around you. While your beautiful huge head is useful at present for telling the two of you apart, I am also convinced that it is being filled daily with all of the things that you are taking in. Coley, you sit in the more comfy chair because you need to be cradled. You watch me so closely when I am near you and I can see your eyes tracking me as I leave the room. Your delicate features and deep deep gaze differentiate you from your brother.

Our capacity to love you deepens every day - kind of hard to believe really. There are still moments when we're driving in the car and I look back to the sea of car seats, your big sister flanked by the two of you and I just can't imagine what we did before you came. Amazing how much life you can miss when you're getting nine hours of sleep a night!

Love,
Mama