Brothers

For the first fifteen or so months of Weston's life, I was completely overwhelmed with trying to meet the very different needs of both kids. I felt like I was never taking care of both of them at the same time--they were constantly taking turns vying for and getting my attention. My mental list always went something like this: change Weston, read to Luke, play peek a boo with Weston, get Luke a snack, nurse Weston, do an art project with Luke, put Weston down for a nap, play a game with Luke. And if I managed to stick to the "schedule," I felt that they were both getting enough, but children aren't buses, so following the schedule was a rare occurrence. There were so many times when the baby was crying because I had put him down and Luke was throwing a tantrum because I couldn't read to him THAT SECOND and I wondered what had possessed us to think we could handle two of them. It seemed like having a sibling was doing more harm than good. And then, something happened. Weston became a toddler and wasn't so intensely needy all the time. Luke turned three-and-a-half and gained some semblance of rationality. And finally, they're doing things together. I mean, most of the time, the things they are doing are destructive, messy things: crumbling up styrofoam, pulling out ALL the dress-up clothes, dumping every single toy they own onto the floor, running full-speed and crashing into the walls, that kind of thing. But still, they are doing the same thing at the same time, which is infinitely better than endlessly pulling in opposite directions. A couple of times recently, Luke has told me in a surprised, happy tone that, "Weston isn't a baby anymore! He's three-and-a-half, just like me!"