Young Baby Young

I know it’s normal for all new moms to have meltdowns; I guess I should take comfort in knowing that I am, after years of lively debate, ”normal”.  While Emily is a very good baby, she does do baby things, including crying at inconvenient hours and keeping me from getting my 10 hours of beauty rest.  With holiday bustling and out-of-town visitors, I finally had me a meltdown (or three).  But it’s been like 5 days since the last one, so I think I’m doing pretty well.  I keep reminding myself that I’m on maternity leave: the only thing I have to do right now is take care of Emily.  So if she’s up at 3am wanting to eat, who cares?  It’s a hard mindset to adopt, but I’m working on it.  The other thing I keep reminding myself is that infant’s aren’t manipulative — when they need something, it’s your job to tend to it, not to think, “Oh, she’s looking for attention; I shouldn’t give it to her.”

Chris went back to work on Monday; we’re all trying to get used to our new schedules.  Chris went through some Emily withdrawal yesterday.  They were happy to be reunited last night (and the dogs are always happy to see Daddy):

If your perceptive mind wonders, “Does that child have a mullet?” after viewing the pictures above, let me be the first to assure you that she most definitely does.  Billy Ray Cyrus, eat your heart out!  Business in the front…party in the back!

I guess we’ll just add this to the list of things she’s going to be mad at me for in a few years….  We try to keep a hat on her most days so she doesn’t get mobbed by paparazzi.

If you’ve ever wondered how I’m managing to type while carrying a baby, let me assure you that it does take some skill.  Between my Boppy pillow and my Maya Wrap (both fabulous inventions, by the way), we manage to make it work.  Here’s an aerial picture I took of yesterday’s contortions:

Let me tell you, not adding a blog entry in a nearly a week has really thrown me off.  I hardly know where to begin.  Emily became 2 weeks old as of yesterday (I ate a cake on her behalf.  I wonder if 2 weeks and 1 day warrants another one?).  She’s becoming more alert and a little person in her own right.  Her new favorite trick is to spit up milk and, if we’re lucky, to blow it out her nose.  The funny thing is the sequence of events: milk comes up, she looks confused, and then she screams lustily.  I’m not sure if she’s in pain or simply embarrassed.  I suspect it’s the latter.

We had a big day today: we went to the post office, the bank ATM, and the grocery store.  Those may sound like mundane tasks to the uninitiated, but when you’re carrying an eight-pound ticking time bomb everywhere, even the most mundane tasks are filled with intrigue and daring.  Will she wake up and force me to abandon my half-full shopping cart?  Will she spit-up on the new 83-year-old lady who kindly bends down to gaze adoringly at her?  Will she impress the masses with one of her high-velocity, high-volume bowel moments?  Worse yet, will they think that was me and not the baby??  Yeah, these are all things the childless public has never had to consider.  Anyway, our excursions went well and we were both exhausted upon returning home.  It was one small step for Mommy; one giant leap for Mommykind.

We got to see some of my family this weekend when they came to town on a last-minute visiting spree.  Of course, Miss Emily enjoyed being passed around and coddled.

with Aunt Linda

 

 

 

 

 

 

with Aunt Linda and Nadia, the closest thing she’ll have to a cousin.

 

 

 

 

 

with my cousin, Cindy, and her daughter Nadia

 

 

 

 

 

Nadia with her exceptionally-tolerant Maltese, Twink (short for Twinkle Toes, of course)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m sure there’s other news I’m forgetting, but such is life these days.  I’ll just end this entry with a grouping of cute pictures of Emily.  She’s so darn smishy…I don’t even know that that’s a word, but it seems to capture my pinching, smushing sentiment.

I told Chris the other day that we’ll need to make a conscious effort to include me in the pictures because I tend t obe on the other side of the lens most days.  I don’t want her to think she was raised by Charlie Brown’s school teacher or something.  Whaa whaaa wha whaaa.  Wha wha?  Wha!