I call myself a pessimistic optimist.
I fixate on prepare myself for the worst case scenario and every related contingency like I'm the love child of Cassandra and Eeyore.
Because the mutant nightmares I conceive rarely happen, I generally walk around with the awed delight reserved for Disney movies and Narnia.
True to form, while preparing for the Wren Bird, I was certain my days would be merely a parade of staggering zombie marches from a warm bed to a screaming baby.
I think people tried to tell me I might like having a little human around the house, but I was staunch in my conviction that a mandatory purgatory of lost control and sleep were the sum of my new reality.
It's been two weeks of awed delight.
I didn't know I would love:
...the Mister diving to turn off the radio when a classic Father|Daughter song came on because he "really can't think about her wedding right now."
...seeing her sleep with her little booty in the air.
..little baby kisses on my neck.
...her furrowed brow and straining little chicken neck when she is So.Sure. she knows where dinner is.
The Mister says she gets her confidence in her disorientation from me.
Apparently you can never live down one upside down map in Dublin.
...stretches that are SO. BIG.
...those first stares that seem like a moment of recognition.
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