Straitjackets for Babies

His arm STILL escaped? Inconceivable!

Although they struggle like anything to get out of them, my babies secretly love to be swaddled. Otherwise, they get really tired and start flailing their arms because they don't know how do go to sleep on their own. Maxwell is a classic example. The arm action eventually leads to his smacking himself in the face, et voila! The moment becomes titled, Wide Awake and Frustrated About It. Maxwell is getting pretty good at escaping my swaddles (but not Daddy's- you can't even bend his body in that tight of a wrap), so I have come up with a new solution- using the carseat buckles as fasteners for this baby burrito.



Dawn and her baby Caleb the Blond HeavyWeight came and visited us last weekend. It was great. She taught the kids to dance, and now they want to watch music videos on You Tube all the time. It's probably good that I'm so clueless in that dept, sorry kids, can't help ya. Instead, they have to get jiggy with it to Mark's old Will Smith CDs.


Since Deloitte and the great state of Texas think that MLK was more important than all 42 presidents put together, Monday was a regular day and Mark was off to DC. It was really nice to have Dawn here as backup and I'm exceeding grateful for all the laundry she folded and the kitchen floor getting scrubbed. Wow, what a best friend. Too bad we lacked the discipline to go to bed in the evenings, the circles under my eyes are getting so dark and deep. Next week I'll be better behaved.

Days 3-12

So sad! Mother has left us and returned home to UT. We would not have survived without her. As you can see, Matthew is bowing his head into the trunk rather than let us see the tears in his eyes. (Katrina hides her grief well.)

Maxwell is proving to be a very patient child. How can you possibly know this from a 12-day old? Well, I'll tell ya: when Mom was here, she was astounded at all that Max's siblings did to "welcome" him into the family, without so much as a peep from the newcomer. And she knows babies.

For further proof:

When children #s 1-3 were hungry, they would yell. If you could translate their crying into words, they would be saying something like this:

"Hey! You with the food source! I'm hungry! Time to eat! NOW! NOW NOW NOW NOW NOW!" (etc etc)

Whereas, Maxwell's tone is more like:

"Ahem. Excuse me, Mom? Not to trouble you, but if you get a minute, I'm awake again and I'd like some nourishment. But if you're busy, I'll try to gum off some fiber from the cotton pjs I'm wearing..."

But let there be no mistake: the boy is a barracuda when it comes to eating. He knows how to eat and is becoming a champ at chomping.

This is what I call his Pea Soup picture...
Peas Porridge Hot
Peas Porridge Cold
Peas Porridge In the Pot
9 days old!

He is having some tummy troubles, as all our babies do. But last night he slept well, which is why I'm still perky enough at 9:15 pm to be posting. It was nice to sleep for a few hours in a row... I'm still recovering from my own after-birth issues. Folks from the neighborhood and church have sure been good to us in the meantime.