dear babies

Oh, babies...

You turned 10 months last week and it is every bit as wonderful and exhausting as I thought it would be. I loved the baby baby phase and my heart sometimes aches to just snuggle you for hours on end like I did when you were first born but, my goodness, is this phase fun. I could just watch you play and laugh and eat and discover for hours on end. And I do. Sometimes you laugh at each other and try to hug {which usually ends with one of you accidentally tackling the other resulting in a pile of laughing and/or crying babies}. Other times you play quietly next to each other lost in your own serious, little worlds. And then one of you will make a soft sound as if to share with your sister and you sit and wait for her to acknowledge your discovery before you both quietly return to your own toys. {Unless, you've just discovered banging a spoon on an empty oatmeal canister or how to climb into the dishwasher- in which case, the discovery is too groundbreaking to merely acknowledge and then I have two tiny girls trying to do the same thing.} 

This past month you've learned how to chase each other and how to copy each other and it just makes me so thrilled that I got to have you two together. I never understand when people act like having twins is somehow unfortunate. I can't imagine it any other way. When you eat off of each other's trays or screech at the top of your lungs at each other or follow each other from room to room looking for t.r.o.u.b.l.e. When I go to check on you while you're sleeping and you're in the same exact position. When I can hear you 'talking' to each other instead of napping.

 I'm loving these days more than I ever thought possible. I get to watch you become the people you're going to be. And having two of you just shows me how truly individual you already are.

Lola, you're my little force. You are tiny but strong. You can pull up on anything. One handed. 

You've been doing this thing lately where you kneel but stretch as big as you can get towards the sky and just talk and babble and laugh. You turn your hands up as if to say, 'What. You don't understand what I'm saying?!' You literally say 'eh?' like a little Canadian baby all day long. You ride in your car seat with your feet all the way up to your ears--maybe just because you can? And you fall asleep with your feet propped up on the handle or the shoulder of the person riding next to you. Just comfier that way, eh? 

You've mastered climbing stairs and throwing toys. You love to watch these plastic shapes bounce across the hardwood floors. And today you figured out how to put the blue circle into the blue circle hole. Genius. You're obsessed with Howie and think he's your best friend. 

{He doesn't think that so much. But maybe someday he'll change his mind.}

You are my mover and shaker. My fearless child. My risk taker. My hurricane. The ring leader of this little circus.

Climbing into the stroller via the basket underneath. Isn't that how everyone does it?

First shiner. From 'playing' daddy's guitar. 

Charleigh Grace, you're my snuggle bug. You were second to roll over and crawl but the first to love on other people. 

I can remember picking you up at about six months old and how tight you would hug my neck. You're busy as a bee but, if someone picks you up, you lay your head down and lightly pat their back.

Not sure about your dad here...

You give kisses with your mouth wide open and a huge smile on your face. You've mastered crawling now but for the longest time you got where you needed to go via 'the spin move' where you would get up on all fours, rock, spin, and sit down just that much closer to your destination. You're hilarious to watch as you sit and play with your toys because, without a doubt, you end up using your legs to to turn in a complete circle like a helicopter. You love playing with the door stops and, recently, started growling like a little monster--cracking yourself right up. You are much more free with your smiles and affections than your sister. Charmer. 

Oh, that smile.

You are my silly child. My sweetheart. My love bug. Mama's girl. The sensitive side of this crazy duo.

Even on rough days where you two don't nap well or are cutting teeth or are both trying to climb up my pant legs at the same time {all day long}, I'll put you to bed and 20 minutes later look at your daddy and say, 'I miss them.' Because I do. You are such a part of me. The best part. And I know someday that will change. You'll become independent and make friends and grow up and go to college and you won't need me as much. But not tomorrow. And not for the next few precious years. For right now, we're our own silly, banana covered, Elmo-loving version of the three musketeers. Day in and day out. {Four musketeers if you count Howie. But, for some reason, he doesn't love to be lumped in with the three of us.} I love you two. Too much. And I always will.