It's been a busy week here at Me Show central, what with our cousin Hanna visiting and prompting visits to the Puyallup (pyoo-AL-up, Morah, not POY-ul-up) Fair and Seattle Aquarium, among other places, for everyone but Madeline and me. I'd write something that would encompass all of these events in a witty and pithy way, but I'm terribly sleep-deprived from, you know, the sleep deprivation. That, plus the soaring crescendo of a sugar high achieved through the manic consumption of an entire box of dark chocolate-covered caramels, have rendered me inarticulate. So, here, look at these pictures instead. They're said to be worth thousands of words, or at least a gander.
Sleep smile! Wakey smiles are rare, but they happen now. This is Madeline's first smile captured photographically.
Look at how big Livy's gotten! And, uh, someone else, too!
No, I didn't eat too many doughnuts. Or, rather, the too many doughnuts I ate didn't cause that bloat. THIS little lady did!
Don't bug me; I'm busy sleeping and growing hair.
That there is Miss Madeline (rhymes with "nine") Mae, and she is 4 weeks old today. In that picture she was 1 day old. She is even bigger and hairier and cuter now. She does things like smile at us in her sleep and fart like a dyspeptic longshoreman all day long. We love her a lot and are going to keep her forever and snuggle her and pet her and OH MY GOD, SHE'S SO CUTE SHE MAKES ME TALK LIKE LENNIE FROM OF MICE AND MEN!
Luckily, we have an in-house (housemade?) superhero to protect "Baby Sister" from Mama's overzealous snuggles. Livy loves "[her] baby," and we've yet to see any kind of rivalry or jealousy from her. I may have just jinxed it, but the love has held for 4 weeks so far. The jinxy statute of limitations must be up after 4 weeks, yes?
So, to reintroduce myself to blogging and to blog readers, I offer both a postpartum mix tape and a personal cri de coeur.
1. For you nursing ladies in the crowd, let this inspire you to great lactational heights:
Latch on: Kool & The Gang's "Get Down On It."
In flagrante delicto: Nirvana's "Drain You."
Digestif: PJ Harvey's "Dry."
2. Mr. Weaver, please forgive me for exploiting another tiny person for my own entertainment and pleasure. I am a limited woman who needs a hobby, and this is better than making God's eyes out of popsicle sticks and nasty acrylic yarn and then mailing them to you in bulk. What my children lose in privacy, you gain in not having to haul my handiwork to the dump, and now you have to be on my side. Sucka.