Coming up for air

Now, on occasion, they sleep at the same time. This allows me time to, you know, pay bills, check email, and breathe.

Nugget no longer looks like E.T. Instead, he looks like his dad. And his dad looks nothing like E.T. He is smooth and rounded, and he giggles when you tickle him. Like dad.

Knowing this is your last child, your last baby, is difficult. He is now growing out of his clothing, and I need not keep it this time around. As each stage passes, I must mourn its passing just as I celebrate Nugget's new developments. And then, and then. I miss my son. The older one. I miss the quality time we used to have together. Much of what was our quality time is replaced with struggle after battle, as I try to meet each child's basic needs. I sorrow, also, for those wonderful months I spent with Griffin, focused on him, that I don't now have with Nugget. Poor little guy seems just plain thankful for every little bit of attention he gets.