I still have random moments where I stop, look around, and realize I have two boys. My twelve-year-old self never would have imagined that I’d be raising two boys. Heck, my twenty-one-year-old self wouldn’t have either! Just look at these two. A fat, scowly old man baby and his long scrawny big brother.
Since Quinten is in a race to see how quickly he can weigh as much as Maximus, I think he looks older than 3.5 months. For some reason that makes me feel old. That makes me stop and think about those two little boys who are all mine. Those two little boys who have me wrapped around their fingers {which look nothing alike}.
I’m sorry it took me 3.5 months to feel the full impact of having two boys. I think that means I was too busy trying to keep two boys alive and happy. It means I didn’t take enough time to stop and think. I didn’t soak it all in. I was too busy doing. Changing diapers, feeding mouths, and putting them down for naps.
This weekend I spent a lot of time soaking them in. Thinking about them. Snuggling them. And growing my heart for them. One pound at a time.
I have those moments, still, all the time, where I think “I have TWO boys!” And, I keep having moments where I look at O and think “he’s not a baby, anymore!” and look at M and think “oh my goodness, he doesn’t even look like a toddler, anymore!” because… He’s not… They grow SO fast. Hope you get lots of snuggles in with your sweet baby, I cannot even remember O being that little…