Sleepless In Alexandria

It occurred to me at 3:30 a.m., in the midst of a groggy feeding, that I used to stay awake at night just to watch Harry sleep. My heart would swell as I'd just gaze at him, my first little miracle. Funny how second miracles aren't quite so scintillating. Beautiful, wonderful, precious and cherished, yes, but last night, as I gazed at Charlotte, preferring for the first time to watch her slumber instead of taking my own opportunity to hit the pillow, I was reminded how second children just don't always score all the perks. In some ways, they're luckier. More seasoned parents make better, calmer parents and in turn, probably turn out more adjusted little ones who, for example, are willing to sleep without being held all the time. As a result, Charlie is a much better infant snoozer than her brother.

I recall the first time Harry threw up -- and I'm talking one of those Linda Blair Exorcist projectile vomit experiences -- I just lost it, sure he'd need to be hospitalized. There were calls to the pediatrician, chapters of speed reading in baby books, great wrending of hands. And of course it was nothing more than gas. Charlotte is already a champion puker and mom and dad are taking it in stride, this time with a lot of patience and laundry detergent on hand. To date she has visited the doc a mere fraction of the times we hauled in her brother. Sometimes it's good to come in second.

Included, some photos from Friday's mothers' group.: Harry picking through the pantry in search of food. And Charlotte in the gentle arms of my friend Holly.