Marshall is eight weeks old today. He’s still my hero…all 4.03kgs of him.
All questioning eyes, too:

Yes, sweet baby, I really had to take your picture today :-).

His brothers are my heroes as well.
Where I would be without the four of them is a place I don’t care to go to. Or think about.

Sooo, in honor of them and today, I have small news and a confession to make.

Truth be told, since the minute each wild boy was born, I searched them for something…just anything…that resembled me. In the slightest of ways. With the big wild boys it was easy. And nearly instant.

Upon first glance I saw my eyes, my hair, my chin, my hands…

With Marshall it was much, much different. I searched for hours when I first held him. I searched for days. I searched for weeks.

And weeks.
And weeks.

I came up with nothing.

Nada. Zero. Zilch.

Then yesterday I FOUND IT!!!!

Fresh from the “hurry before the baby cries” super shower, and between dirty diapers, gas bubbles, feedings, laundry, medication, meals, bills, and all of the things which turn a 20 minute process into half day long ordeal, I was hastily applying my warpaint. [Most women call it makeup but in a house with this much testosterone and sleeplessness, it’s a war to convince myself to rock my femininity at times ;-)!]

Needless, one “EUREKA I FOUND IT!” moment later, as fast as a quick swipe of mascara allows, I realized that Marshall has my eyelashes. And likely (perhaps) my head shape…the jury is out on this one.

But that’s it.

Everything else seems to have been claimed by his dad in the great DNA war.

That is, unless you count the tenacious fighting spirit the kid has.

Knowing what I know now, I’d dare to say he got that from both of us…but more from me (wink wink)!

Regardless of who the wild boys look like, I’m so incredibly thankful that they are here. That they are these brilliant, adorable, sometimes wild, but always fine young men. And I’m blown away everyday that I have the honor of being their mama <3.