Sometimes I don't know whether to laugh or cry

Poor little second-borns

Don't cry for us, we're already forgotten. At least that's what some people say.

It certainly is hard to understand it all when you have your second child. I have found that dividing my focus has been a real challenge. While I feed Nicholas (what was a sweet, quiet time with Jacob) I've got "Screamy McGiggs" barking out orders for me to read to him or get him milk or to simply put Nicholas down. I don't fault him. He's two. It's his job to be demanding and irrational. But it's Nicholas's turn to be my baby and to enjoy the attention of his mother.

When we drove to Tuscaloosa last Friday night Matt and Jacob rode with Matt's brother Garrett, and Nicholas and I drove together. We drove separately so that Nicholas could sleep without Mr. McGiggs in the car. We ended up stopping in Leeds, Alabama at a shiny, new Chick-fil-a to change him and, of course, to get some lemonade. It was like going back in time to have just Nicholas. To talk to him and dote on him and have all of my energy focused on him. Chatting with Nicholas feels optional ("Nicholas, did you see the red car?"), whereas talking (or yelling) with Jacob feels essential ("Jacob, get down from there!" or, another favorite, "Jacob, if you do that again you're going in time out!"). It made me realize just how different it is the second time around. It was a bittersweet realization.

Anyway, the reason I'm thinking about this is really because of these pictures. Snotty nose, marker on his face...and don't even get me started on those weird zitty things on his cheeks. The doctor told me they'll go away eventually. That would not have been enough reassurance if Jacob had had them, but I haven't thought twice about them since talking to the doc!

Behold, the classic second child.





























Oh, sweet Nicholas, I love you baby blue. And I like your ridge runner, too!

Any advice for this confused, and a little heartsick, mother of two?

We've been workin' on the rail road

Happy day after Easter!

We went to Grandma and Grandpa's house this weekend and all we did was work! No easter eggs. No candy. Just work! We're exhausted. Can you believe it?














Even Jacob had to get busy!


















Okay, okay, so we did have a great Easter! Our Saturday morning in the yard was actually lots of fun. And we had lots of Easter fun. There was even a little seer sucker involved. We'll try to post more pictures of our weekend once our blisters have healed!

Peek-a-boo

With a bit of interpretive dance to boot!

(And don't worry, I actually do put pants on Jacob.  Just not on that day, or very many other days.)

Like I say, they're boys.

Boys

I love having boys. Despite the fact that I feel like I'm flinching all of the time...














...I, Robyn, am very happy with boys. I have one sister and about a kajillion girl cousins, so the ways of boys (see above) were totally new to me. They are funny and smart and often very exasperating (see above). Match boy-ness with Jacob's personality and you get moments like the following.

Mornings right after Matt leaves are either magical or horrible. This particular morning Jacob really outdid himself.

First, he put a visor on Nicholas like a toga.



























And then ran around the room laughing and screaming and falling down.














Who knew that could be so much fun!

A perfect storm

After spending three days looking at apartments in Chicago I have pretty much decided never to spend money on anything ever again. We returned from Chicago late Saturday night. The next morning we went to church without really thinking about Jacob's hair. It was bad. Very, very bad. Long, crazy and bumpy. I played with it fruitlessly all during church in hopes of taming it. It would not tame! I was frustrated at myself for not combing it before church. Later that evening, however, I saw this picture Grandma Jan took while she selflessly took care of the boys for our financially depressing trip.


















Oh my goodness. How did it escape my notice that Jacob's hair is nuts. Granted this was what it looked like after going down a slide...but please believe me it's not a far cry from his Sunday look. No amount of combing can fix a mess like that.

So, frugality mixed with need led to this.














I know that in this picture he looks smiley and cute and cleaned up. Alas, I thought so too. But it's bad. It's almost take him to a professional to fix it bad. Sorry son.

I'm still learning with this haircutting thing. Someday I'll learn how to not cut the "bangs" too straight or too crooked.

What does this mean?

I mean seriously. I'm at a loss. He wasn't crying or laughing when I snapped these pics.




























Lost.

Any ideas?

Thankfully I think I get what this face is telling me...and I like it.