A journalist observes life in the far north.
Today Slate is 10 days old. It’s 2pm and I am dressed, the kids are dressed, we’ve all had breakfast and lunch and I’ve even entertained company and folded and put away two loads of clothes. If my teeth were brushed and bed made, it might nearly be described as a successful day.
I remember going through this with Jade. It took weeks to figure out how to pull myself together before noon, so I am hopeful I will figure it out with Slate in the mix as well.
He’s a good baby. He only cries when he gas, hunger or at bathing time. Jade was a feisty child from day one, while Slate is mellow. He sleeps about 18 to 20 hours a day though he seems to be staying awake longer these last two days. He eats a lot—at least every two hours—which is way more than Jade ate and he makes more messy diapers too.
Jade seems to be adjusting OK. Slate’s arrival immediately provoked in her an identity crisis and she pretended to cry every time he cried but that seems to be waning. Now she is eager to help and grabbing special attention from mama every chance she gets.
Alec is over the moon to have a boy, even if the boy doesn’t look much like him. Slate has my humongous forehead, courtesy of my dad, and my eyes, also thanks to my dad, I think. His chestnut hair has a red tint like my dad’s, though his eyebrows are very light, making me think he might blond up.
His eyes are destined to be blue or gray. The only question at this point is what shade?