Sunday night was my last overnight with the babies for a week and I miss them already. Mike's sister Shannon is flying in from Chicago today to help. She is about our Andy's age, a nurse, and a very generous auntie who sent beautiful clothes for the kiddies.The baby blog and new pictures almost every day will be my fix to stay connected until next week. Pictures are wonderful but something is missing. You don't get the sweet smell of their necks, the almost-there social smile I am trying to elicit, or the touch of soo soft skin. You don't feel the warm little bundles cuddled up against you as they sleep after feeding. My clothes don't smell like formula. You don't see Roman's big eyed expressions or Zoe's pretty princess little face.
I even miss the "watchcat" Wicket. She has appointed herself keeper of the kids. She patrols their room occasionally like a night watchman on rounds. If all is well, she stealthily leaves. If the kids are crying (sometimes both at once), Wicket is in your face to remedy the situation. She gets close, turns that Ewok-like face at you, looks with her dime-sized pea green eyes, and meows loudly. DO SOMETHING, the look says. Watchcat. Her mothering instincts are intact.
You can't say she would be a wicked mother. Wicket, gotta love her too.
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