These pics are from her very earliest days - still getting caught up over here.
He adores her. I think this is a day or two after we got home from the hospital.
Proud and protective.
Taking a nap with my kids on the couch = God's promises to me in action. (Side note: my chloasma - the mask of pregnancy that's due to increased melanin in the face - got really pronounced, and I'm sporting orangey/brownish/yellow splotches, so I'm a bit camera-shy yet. You can really see it here.)
Disregarding all those pesky rules about "no soft materials in the crib." Also disregarding all rules of style, given the number of colors and patterns going on here. She's a rebel.
I've warned him that if he doesn't give her face a little more space, she's going to end up spitting up right in his mouth (this happened to another friend with kids about the same age - the big brother now gives the little sister a much more respectful berth).
Newborn clothes from Lane: more like dressing a doll than I would have believed. I didn't quite make it all the way through the newborn stuff, mostly because I'm lazy, but also because the majority were for a baby born in cooler months, and V would have cooked.
Mom and Lane, Vesper and Audrey. Lane's comment was "MY MASSIVE BABY IS GOING TO EAT YOUR TINY ONE!" However, Audie's little feet are the same length as V's (though chubbier). I'm not sure how she'll be able to walk on those pegs!
My family, loving each other. Isn't it grand?
Hot hot days call for pool parties with cousins and friends.
Blake taking a whack at Optimus Prime. That orange blur is the bat.
Proud papa with a baby that somehow looks just like him, but is also pronouncedly feminine, especially for an infant (they all tend to look genderless for a while).
The changing station in the living room is right next to a mirror. It's one of her favorite spots in the house, which is a little worrisome this early!
Ok. Off to finish the laundry (four loads in two days), empty the dishwasher, reload the diaper bag, heat up dinner, and sit down to it just in time for Vesper to wake up and ensure my meal is cold by the time I get to it. She's got a baby's uncanny sense of when Mama is about to eat, tuning up to be sure SHE eats first. She's remarkably persuasive about this argument, too, much to my dismay.