white apples . a blog

the two turkeys

Juniper and Baby Onion

For at least a week, she called him Baby Onion.

She also calls him Baby Brother. And Cutie.

She loves to hold him and give him kisses. So many kisses.

She always makes sure he has a blankie and the teething toy that she picked out for him.

She shakes his little hands and says, "How do you do?"

When he cries, she insists that someone give him a hug.

When they are not in the same room, she always asks about him.

I assumed that she would be jealous, that she would resent a new baby taking her place.

No. My sweet little girl. She adores her brother.

{this moment}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

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inspired by Amanda Soule. join in on her blog.

 

two weeks

Owen has been in our lives for two weeks and already he was wiggled himself into all the cozy corners of our family as if he has been there all along, staring with his big, dark eyes, smiling his little smirk, snuggling his sweet bear snuggles. 

After an initial weight loss of over a pound, he seems to be steadily gaining it all back. He no longer fits into any newborn clothes, and he never really fit into any of the newborn or extra small cloth diapers that Juni wore for the first month or so. He's a big guy, already able to hold his head up and check out his world.

Aside from the requisite feedings every few hours, Owen has been a great sleeper, which has been a mercy for me given the new chaos of our days. I cringe and remember countless dark hours of bouncing a sleepless, gassy Juniper around our little house in those first few weeks, and I thank my sweet baby boy for taking it easy on this mama.

Our days are infinitely busier. Our nights can get a little crazy. But we are, all of us, completely smitten.

the birth story

What makes a birth story a "story"? Drama and surprise? Swift, unexpected developments? Long, laborious battles? Shrieking and wailing, like those actresses on the screen with the impossibly skinny hips? What if there was absolutely nothing remarkable at all about the birth other than a beautiful, healthy, sweet baby boy slipping into the world?