He's Here. Theodore James Hartwell. We're Outnumbered.

Theodore James Hartwell arrived February 3rd at 3:47 AM. 8 pounds, 1 ounce of pure perfection. Dark hair like his dad, lungs like his mom (the nurses were impressed), and zero interest in sleeping through anything ever.

He’s Here. Theodore James Hartwell. We’re Outnumbered.

The ride home was interesting. Sophie had prepared for weeks to meet her baby brother, practicing with her dolls and asking if he would like dinosaurs. The first thing she did when we walked through the door was offer him her juice box. “He looks thirsty, Mama.” Marcus said “we know what we’re doing this time.” Reader, we absolutely do not know what we’re doing. Theo doesn’t care. He just wants to be held and fed and loved, and somehow we can manage all three of those things. For now.

Two days home and still can’t believe he’s ours

Two kids. TWO. I now have two tiny people who depend on me for literally everything, and one of them just told me dinosaurs don’t drink juice, only water. Send wine. Send reinforcements. Send someone who remembers what sleep feels like, because I’ve already forgotten.