My other half Kirsty doesn’t blog much these days but she does write, and she wrote this for the twins on the day that they turned six months old. She also graciously told me that I could share it on the blog.
Today is special. Today marks six months of you, of us and of this new life we are living. Today marks half a year of us being parents, half a year of getting to know your beautiful personalities. Today, I want to tell you about who you are.
Balthazar. Funny, quirky, mischievous little Balthazar. You are so beautiful, sometimes you literally take my breath away. You are my wriggly worm, my fidget, my budding misanthropist. When you cry for me and I pick you up, you cling to my jumper or my skin or hair with your tiny nails, just to make sure you aren’t going anywhere. Your cry is a cross between that perfect, raw newborn cry and a parade of sirens. You are determined. You want to get to everything, especially the dog. Most of the time, you cry when a stranger approaches you. You want to be independent during the day, to roll and reach and try to crawl, but at night, you will only sleep in my arms, in between your brother and I. When you are about to cry, you stick your bottom lip as far out as you can and everyone’s hearts melt. You love to be carried on my back, to look at the world from over my shoulders. At six months old, you still curl up like a tiny newborn when you sleep. You think about abolutely everything – I see the thoughts passing across your face sometimes when you are studying something. You are cheeky; you play a game where you stare in to my face and give me your best smiles, locking your eyes on to mine, so I won’t see your little hand creeping out to grab my hair. When you are drowsy in my arms, if I kiss the top of your nose, just in between your eyes, you fall asleep. You went through a phase at 5 months of only drinking milk if you could hold the bottle yourself; you would scream if I tried to take it from you. You are so ticklish, it’s one of my favourite things about you. You have this amazing range of sounds, too, I think you’re going to be a talkative little button. You are bright, brilliant and fierce and I love you in a way that just can’t be described.
Lysander. Cheerful, soulful, loving little Lysander. You too are so beautiful, in such a different way to your brother but in equal measure. You are my cuddle bug, my plumpkin, my happy little socialite. When I put you down and walk away from you, your arms reach out for me and you cry, startled to find that we are actually two separate beings. When I come back for you, you bury and snuggle your face in to my shoulder and cuddle me like a koala would. You have the most contagious laugh, it’s a sound I could listen to all day and feel moved by. You are delighted by everything. You like to meet new people from the safety of one of your mama’s arms, to study and watch them as they try their best to convince you that they are worth the warmth of your reception. After a few moments, you light up as if someone as flipped a switch and smile, laugh, babble; sometimes you reach out. You sleep stretched out, with one arm above your head, making the most of the room between your brother and your other mama. You can go from being blissfully happy to completely, through and through devastated in five minutes flat. You are curious about everything; you will sit on my lap and see something that fascinates you and before I know it, you are lurching forward with your arms out to get to it. You are enjoying beginning to try new foods. You love yogurt and cling to my hands when I bring the spoon near to you, just to make sure it’s definitely going to get to your mouth. You adore our ginger cat, Gus. You concentrate so hard on trying to grab him and he deliberately keeps himself just out of your reach. You are such a sweetheart and so laid back, but you love really vigorous play – to be bounced and swung and and thrown about. If I sing to you when you are drowsy in my arms, you will fall asleep smiling, your hand resting on my chin. You are affectionate, inquisitive and intense and no words exist to tell you exactly how much I love you.
Thank you. Thank you for six months of joy, challenge, frustration and triumph. Thank you for cuddles and warm baby bodies at night. Thank you for the laughter, the smiles, the fingers curled in my hair, the sadness when I leave you. Thank you for existing. I don’t take you for granted, precious people. You will never know what having the two of you in my life means to me. That knowledge will forever be mine, tucked away in my heart.
These six months have been utterly amazing. I cannot wait for the next.