Before I begin this eight month tribute to you two beautiful boys, I must offer my apologies for the lack of monthly blogs you so totally deserve. Someday when you grow up you are going to look at all these blogs and see that you have been seriously short-changed in the monthly letter department (and lots of other things). And when you discover this I want you to know that it wasn’t because I didn’t want to write you monthly letters or that I loved you less than the rest, it’s just that well. . . someday you’ll see that life gets crazy and things happen that you don’t expect, that you can’t possibly prepare enough for and as a result, you have to make adjustments. And change is the most constant thing life has to offer you–nothing ever stays the same and life is hardly ever fair. But always know that, no matter how many things change (or how short-changed you might feel or how unfair life is) I love you and that, my little men, is one thing that will never change or be short-changed. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for having more kids than I can possibly care for properly, for doing the one thing I swore I’d never do. But I’m not ever sorry for having you! Not ever.
Now, let’s get on with it–At eight months, you both are very mobile. That’s for sure. Jericho was the first to crawl, earning him the title “Crawl the Warrior King II.” Both of you have been rolling around the room for at least two months now and a few weeks ago Jericho started soldier crawling in a forward motion. You both have spent several weeks on your hands and knees rocking back and forth, just trying to get enough momentum to propel you forward. But it was Jericho who figured it out first and Justus as always was hot on his heels. “Scooter” is Justus’s newest nickname because while he may not be able to crawl as well as his brother, he’s great at scooting himself backward, right into the corner everytime. The other night Justus scooted his way inbetween the couches, under the end table and then proceeded to play with the crazy number of cords we have shoved under there. In search of his brother, Jericho crawled his way over to the end table as well and both babies played happily under the table until someone’s head got bumped and it didn’t seem so much like a party anymore.
While Jericho may have beat Justus in the race to crawl first, Justus won the race to sit alone first. I’ve known for awhile that you were really close to sitting but I haven’t been brave enough to let you try. Why? Let’s just say “sitting duck” and Caleb. I can’t leave you alone on the floor in any position with Caleb around. So far you both have been stepped on, jumped on, body-slammed, knocked over, picked up and dropped, smacked, kicked and bitten by none other than Mr. Delicious himself. He loves you. He really does. So many times he’ll lay right beside you and wrap his chunky little arm around you and kiss you. But right when we start thinking he’s finally learned his lesson, whack! And one or both of you are crying. So while I’m certain you are able to sit, I never leave you sitting alone because Caleb would find you and see “soccer ball” written all over your sweet little foreheads. But the other day while Caleb was sleeping and I was running the trash out, I left Justus rolling around on the floor with a pile of toys and Denver sitting on the couch watching cartoons. When I returned there was Justus, sitting right smack on the middle of the carpet, watching cartoons with Denver like he’d been doing it all his life. Amazing.
Along with crawling and sitting, this morning I found Jericho in his crib kneeling next to the side, pulling himself up. I suppose standing is next on your to-do lists. I shudder at the thought. You both have a favorite toy–the StrobeFX wand–and you fight over it on a regular basis. I didn’t know babies could fight but you have most certainly educated me. You have also graduated from rice cereal and food is your most favorite thing. I don’t think any of your brothers ever ate as much as the two of you. I feel like I’m constantly feeding you and it’s not because there’s two of you, cause I feed you together. It’s just that you are always hungry. I have no idea how much you weigh but you are nice and round and chubby the way all babies should be and happy too. Justus is definitely the pickier of the two of you and often refuses to eat, while Jericho happily inhales Justus’s unwanted portion.
It’s still very difficult for anyone to tell you apart, including myself which I’m very ashamed to admit, but it’s still true. Jericho has a birthmark right under his rib cage but it’s not something you can see when y’all are fully dressed.
And Justus does this scrunchy-nose, curled lip thing that Jericho doesn’t do and that’s usually the way the boys tell you apart (”Which baby is Chunk?”). But it’s not like he’s always making that face for us. Fortunately for us, your personalities are quite different and when you are together, it’s starting to get easier to tell who’s who if we just sit and watch you for awhile. Justus crawls around and we’ll usually find you sitting wherever you stop to play. Jericho crawls to a place and then proceeds to try and climb it. Justus is chunkier. Jericho is quieter. Justus has a very wide open mouth smile. Jericho usually gives us a smaller but just as jolly grin. Justus smiles readily at everyone. Jericho makes you work for your smile, but interestingly enough, Jericho laughs more easily. You both know how to clap, but only Justus responds with clapping when we sing “Clap Clap Clap Your Hands.” Jericho usually smiles at us all like “I’m way too grown up for these silly games.” Jericho dislikes the grass, Justus adores it. Justus falls alseep rather easily, Jericho fights it. But the thing that probably makes telling you two apart the most difficult is that as soon as we pinpoint a definite difference, you decide to swap places on us, leaving us baffled once again. So as always we rely heavily on pink nail polish for Jericho’s toes and color-coded pacifier straps for the both of you. I’m still thinking tattoos are a really good idea. . . .
You two are very popular everywhere we go and everyone wants to hold you and cuddle you and kiss you. I have a feeling when you hit Caleb’s age and are following him as your gang master, it will be a totally different story. I’ll probably have to pay people to take you off my hands. But for now people can’t get enough of you and I often find myself fighting off the crowds just for a chance to hold you myself. You’ve discovered each other recently and like to be together, most of the time, unless your favorite toy is involved. We recently separated you two at night. We always put you to bed on opposite ends of the cribs. But whenever one of you woke up, the first thing you’d do is creep over to your brother’s side and cuddle or climb on the other. More often than not, Jericho was the creeper disturbing Justus’s sound sleep. Anyway, since we’ve separated you, you always find each other through the slats of the cribs and from there carry on the silliest of conversations, blah-blah-blahing to each other about all sorts of important things. When one of you is crying (usually Jericho) the other will join in making just as much noise, even if he is perfectly happy, just to make sure we hear you. Oh, the noise the two of you can make when you join forces. And when there is mischief to be found, you are getting really good at finding it together. Lucky for us, we have Caleb to help us baby proof everything and trust me boys, he’s thorough. Very thorough.
And I think that about sums the two of you up. Everyone told me that the first year with twins is the hardest. And while I definitely think things have been hard (change is always hard), I don’t think you have been difficult in anyway. On the contrary–you have been quite wonderful to have around. And while I don’t always think two things are better than one, in your case I do. And I’m very glad you came the way you did, together. Happy eight months, babies! We love you!
With the kids out of school, I’ve been trying really hard to exercise every day. You see, I’m beginning to resemble the lovely rhino to your left. I’ve tried being easy on myself, I mean I did just have three kids in two years and I hardly expect myself to bounce right back into my size 10 jeans. And yes, that’s a size ten, not a four or a two. You see, I have very realistic expectations. I’ll never be able to squeeze one of my thighs into a size four, let alone my entire lower half. But a size 10 would be wonderful. I’d even settle for a 12. But that hasn’t happened. Nope. I’ve eaten myself into a size 14 and then a 16 and I don’t know what comes next but I’m afraid of finding out. And the saddest thing of all is that after I had the twins I actually got down to a size 12. And then I started coping with life by eating lots of junk and the rest is very, very sad history.
