I promised myself I was going to write more now that I have two kiddos. Haha.
Regardless, I did intend to post about the first six weeks around the six week old mark. I don’t remember hardly any of Bug’s first five weeks or so. Therefore, I would like to at least document parts of this before I lose it as well.
Well, it’s two months. Eight weeks is close enough.
DGA is growing steadily and has reached a whopping 14 pounds and a long 25.5 inches(ish). He is the size of my friends’ four month old. I picked him up yesterday morning and thought to myself, “He grew overnight.” Voicing this opinion to my husband, I had to prove it when he did not believe me. Considering I measured him only four days ago, and he had grown another 1/3 an inch and now did not fit into my favorite 3-6 mo size monkey shirt that says “Hunk” on the front- I am right, he did in fact grow overnight.
He’s very fussy because he’s sick. He’s also really looking forward to playing with his sister. There’s much more awareness in his eyes recently and when she gets in his face and looks at him he just coos and wiggles like crazy. He can hold his head up pretty well and has pretty good control of his limbs for how old he is.
Bug is really starting to get into imaginative play and it’s awesome to see what her brain is capable of understanding… some of these concepts surprise me. She’s understanding right and left decently and used “me” and “I” correctly the other day, although I don’t know that it will stick. She still gets some new words backwards (Truck is Kurt) but eventually gets them out right in the end. She LOVES the moon. It’s her favorite thing now to say “Moon! Thank you God!” She also likes firetrucks.
Me: What is this candle for?
Me: Who do we hope in?
Me: What is Jesus going to do?
Precious. Our washing machine is broken, so it makes sense for her to repeat what I’ve been talking about non-stop.
Speaking of Christmas, I find it surprising how many random strangers have no problem coming up to my kids and talking about Santa. We’re not teaching her about him yet. This probably deserves its own post, but we are going to teach her about the real story of Christmas first (Jesus) and later explain Santa historically and let her enjoy the story but know that it’s fake. We will also teach her to be nice to the other children, don’t worry.
The two under two thing isn’t all that bad. I mean there are moments I want to just completely throw in the towel, but most of the time it’s just plain wonderful. I love both of these children so much and I can’t imagine my life without them now. The main troubles I’m having are sleep deprivation, balancing activities and family, and the big one of feeling like I don’t get to spend enough time actively loving on and playing with my little Bug. I would love to have a Mommy and Me date with her again.
Now, my house- yes it is suffering. I could really use a clean floor. But right now they are both sick and so am I and I don’t have time to clean the floor except for to spot clean puke. I’ve learned to sleep in a small amount of baby spit up, considering my washing machine is broken and I don’t have massive amounts of laundry doing time on my hands.
This little boy is so precious I find that I really wouldn’t mind having another one at all. Someone told us to stop now because there is always “a bad one in the bunch.” I’m not really worried. The only thing we are concerned about is my health. Plan A was to wait a few years and give my body time to heal and recover, then have two more. (As much as that’s even something one can plan.) But I’m already back into my pre-preggo jeans, and I find that I’m not even really afraid of the idea of Irish-twins. So, now that the concept of birth control has become something that must be considered and not simply put off into the future, I’m really wondering about it all. I did pray recently that God would make me have legitimate twins next time, as a “sign,” if He wants me to not have any more. #’TwouldBeAwesome
Now, I’m convicted. I really do complain entirely too much if what I just wrote is true. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, sweet Husband.
I was wondering the other day if Mary complained at all about swollen ankles or the bumpy donkey ride, or even about the fact that she was pregnant and not given a room at that inn. C’mon, I would have. But it was all part of God’s plan right? Pondering.