11 February 2013

8 weeks of twin love.

Well, we're doing it. Life in our house is sort of like witnessing a major zoo mishap where the handlers are blamed at first for leaving the gate unlocked, but then you're like, "well they ARE wild animals..." and then someone else says in a very calm manner, "yeah, but what do you expect when you  assume those underpaid morons wouldn't screw up a task like running a zoo full of wild animals in the first place?" And everyone mumbles in agreement and nods rather sagely, sighing over the state of zoos these days.

The boys are not officially smiling yet. Max is getting there, but Miles sees no reason to smile at anyone who does not resemble a boob. Homeboy is here for the food. Max eats dutifully, and if it's going to sustain him, he'll eat enough to fill his belly.
Miles? That little egg is another story. Where Max would say something like, "That was delicious, Mother. Thank you for the lovely meal." and close his eyes for a little nap, Miles has a different approach. If I were to guess, I think if would go something like, "BOOOOOOOOOBIES!!! MILES NEEDS MILK AND BOOBIES AND BOOBIESPAGHETTI AND BOOBIEWAFFLES AND BOOBIEMIIIIIIIILLLLLLK!!! BOOBIESBOOBIESBOOBIESBOOBIESFOOOOOOOOOOOOD!!! FOODFOODFOODFOODFOODFOODFOODFOODBOOBIES!! BOOBIENUZZLESNUGGLECUDDLELOVELOVELOVEMILKANDBOOBIES!!!" And then he passes out for a marathon nap.

Yeah, lots of nursing in this house. At 8 weeks we are getting into a good groove and I'm not contemplating just buying stock in formula and stopping the whole breastfeeding circus. The first 6 or 7 weeks were really, really rough. I mean, enough to send me straight to the looney bin. But I think we're getting closer go seeing more sleep at night, we're getting a decent routine to hold us until that happens and we've sort of just hit our rhythm.

Now, Mr. Max is finally out after Daddy and I decided to keep them up to laugh at them. Bad decision for sleep, but dang if they aren't the cutest little boys ever! This post is over in the name of rest!

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