Arctic Brunch!

It’s snowing here so our plans to go into the city for a walk about Chinatown were shelved. The roads looked okay but it was super chilly and we were feeling a little lazy. So we bundled up the girls in their snow suits and headed to our favorite brunch spot – Kraverie.

Arctic explorer Naomi & her Sherpa

Kraverie is the bastard offspring of our two favorite food trucks (Korean tacos and crepes)  that decided to get together to open a restaurant so they wouldn’t have to spend the winter freezing their collective arses off in their respective trucks.  The food at this joint is so good, and since we bought a shed load of crepes off them when they had their food truck they know us, and don’t mind that we take up a four top with the girls.

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Three Months. Twelve Weeks. Eighty-Four Days.

The fourth trimester (as it’s called) is done. We all survived – though I’m guessing that the girls came off better than us. They are the ones after all in charge – we are merely following their lead and trudging behind with the bucket of slops.

Peas in a pod?

Something magical started to happen around week nine. Zoey and Naomi started to drop night feeds. All by themselves. No sleep training needed (not that we would have done so young anyway). And, for the last two weeks they’ve been sleeping till 5-7am. They even started scheduling their own bedtime, and as ever we followed their lead so they now go to bed (in their own beds) around 8-9pm. Since we are in the same room we have to stagger this as Zoey likes to fight her trips to Bedforshire despite much tired wailing and rubbing of eyes. So Naomi still gets to doze on her bouncy chair with her legs jutting off it ‘cos she is so big now.

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Naomi…

... the puzzled Eskimo

... the future West Pointer (with feet made for marching!)

... the surpirsed pink bear

... the future Star Fleet officier

... the martyr to her nasal congestion (yes that is one big boogie she sneezed out)

... the smiler

... our (joint) first born

Zoey…

... the very angry Eskimo

 

... the martyr to her gas (yes she grabbed my finger as she farted for moral support!)

 

... the crazy yogic napper (sleeping in 'fish' position if we'd straightened her out)

 

... the creepy mouse

 

... the angry pink bear

 

... the unimpressed baby

 

... our first born

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