Dear RaJenBabies,

Halloween was this week, and your future friend Jacob came over to trick-or-treat in his Tigger outfit.  Just for the occasion, your mom painted angels on my belly so you could be in costumes, too.  It was pretty cute. 

Speaking of my belly, I’ve definitely got a bump now.  Your mom and I had fun shopping for some clothing when we were in San Antonio last weekend.  And I mean fun like how it’s fun to have your balloon jostled by the ultrasound tech.  Like you know it’s for a good purpose, but it’s not exactly fun going through it.  Which is kinda how I feel about shopping anyway. 

Right now, your mom and I are brainstorming things like strollers and car seats and what color to paint your room.  But first, we’re doing some cleaning, organizing, and other household projects.  On the list: seal the stained concrete floors downstairs, buy a new vacuum cleaner, mulch the back yard flower beds, buy a couple rugs for downstairs, move some books to the attic, and sell two bookshelves and two hybrid bicycles. 

According to various sources, I should start to feel “remarkably better” in the coming weeks.  But once again, I find myself out of that norm.  Maybe it’s because I’m carrying two RaJenBabies.  Maybe it’s the chronic lower back pain.  Maybe it’s the ten hour workdays.  Maybe it’s because I’m a total wimp.  But kids, let me tell you, it is all I can do to stay awake until 9:30p.m. 

Your mom, on the other hand, has been a complete superstar.  You will think this of her when she sneaks you Oreos before bed or makes you smiley face pancakes, but she is a superstar for taking care of ALL of us while I am as effective as, I don’t know, a deflated basketball.  She has cleaned house, brought home meals, made me my favorite chili, stocked the refrigerator and pantry with my favorite foods and basically kept us watered and fed, tucked us in at night, set alarms, taken care of the dogs, brought us flowers, written us cards, massaged my feet, and woken me up in the mornings when I’d flat out rather sleep and sleep and sleep.  I feel horribly bad about this, but she reminds me that I’m the energy source for the two of you while your intestines are moving further into your bodies and your tiny pancreas’ are starting to produce insulin.  OK, well, when she puts it THAT way…all that growing can take a bit of energy.   

Now, at thirteen weeks and three inches long, you can each fit in the palm of our hands.  Of course, you already know that we are wrapped around your teeny tiny fingers as it is.

Love,
Your Momz

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