six weeks

The babies are six weeks old today.  Crazy.  Harry's about nine and a half pounds, the little piglet.  Violet's a little over eight.  Harry is fiercely hungry; if his eyes are open, he's hungry; if his eyes are closed, he's still probably hungry--he roots around in his sleep. He's perfectly happy as long as he's eating; Violet meanwhile is perfectly happy as long as she's being held.  Those two conditions pretty much tell you everything you need to know about the last six weeks of life here.  I'm worn out but it's not as harrowing as I thought it would be.  Sometimes entire minutes pass without either of them needing me, and then I can fold six loads of laundry and take a shower.  

Here Violet's modeling a mama-made outfit.  The diapers are working out well but I can't say we're getting much use yet out of anything else I made.  During my prenatal crafting frenzy, I seem to have forgotten the crucial fact that babies wear pajamas.  Or swaddling blankets.  Anything else is too much effort to put on and keep in place.  Once she starts sitting up a bit then maybe the dresses and sweaters will make more sense.

And here's the big brother, pretending to be a baby.  This isn't regression so much as it is hamming it up for the camera.  What you can't see in the picture is that he's chewing on the pacifier like it's a cigar and pretending to cry ("wah wah wah").  The more Scott and I laughed, the more he amped it up.  I love this new phase of toddlerhood.  He cracks me up.  Sometimes when he does something he finds especially amusing he says "funny! ha ha!"  I love that.  What idiot came up with the idea of the terrible twos?  So wrong.