Two are much harder than one. And thus, I am tired. I am beaten down. I know it will only get easier, but right now, it's tough. With one, if the baby is sleeping, you can sleep. With two, someone always needs something. Zach and I joke that Will and Julia must have some sort of system worked out: "Okay Will, I'm going to sleep now. You should wake up and scream so that we can make sure Mom and Dad are always on the ball. We can't let them have a break!"
Luckily, Julia has been a pretty easy baby. But, even easy babies are exhausting in these first few months. God certainly knew what he was doing in giving me good babies, though. I think I would be in a mental institution if I had one who woke up every two hours, cried all the time, or had other special needs. I certainly am in awe and admiration of the parents who deal with things like that and somehow get through it. I am also amazed by big families. I am overwhelmed with TWO; how do people do it with four or seven or more?!
So, I will do the only thing I can do: I will just make it through each day and hope that things will slowly but surely improve. I hope that Julia will start sleeping for a little bit longer stretches each night. I hope Will will not be totally screwed up by Daylight Savings Time coming to an end or by the travel we have planned in a few weeks. I hope that Julia will stop spitting up eighteen times a day. Things will get better. We will obviously survive. Of course, then I'll have selective memory, look back fondly on these baby days, and think I need another one. Someone needs to make sure I resist that urge!