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Monday, January 23, 2012

One of Those Days

I think the Mister worries about us while he's gone.

There was this one time, just before the Wren Bird came, there was a tornado coming and I read the weather map (that was live and in motion) backwards, thought the storm had passed, and proceeded to whine that I really wanted to watch Dexter.

He was very worried about the Birdie's future that day.

He doesn't like it when I go running during lightning storms.
Or when I play "Chicken" with the cars that are in MY ROAD while I'm running.
He worries about my psychological health when I tell our puppy that I'm going to rip her ears off and stick them up her nose.

Come to think of it, I worry about my psychological health when I tell our puppy that I'm going to rip her ears off and stick them up her nose...

Huh.

So in the chaos of Newborn Life, there are times when I suspect he's torn between rushing home to the rescue... 
or just not coming home until many. hours. later.

Last week, I had to send him this:





Text message exchange on said day:

Freddie: This is the trail of pooped on and spit up on clothes at our house right now.

Mister: Oh no!  Are you going to be okay until I get home?

Good thing he's much more the swooping in, red cape, 
white knight kinda guy.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Seems Uncanny

Don't get me wrong.

We love books in this here little casa.

When I was growing up, I was regularly grounded from reading.
(but that's another story)

I confess to unintentional voter fraud in order to save my library membership.
(but that's another story too)

We intend to instill a similar love of books in our little Birdie by inundating her with Eric Carle books until her wee eyes cross and her head bobbles in exhaustion.
(this may or may not have already happened)

The Mister thought I had gone off my Stay At Home Mommy rocker when I babbled excitedly about how the little Birdie loved story time and would cry if you didn't ACTUALLY READ to her.
He was proved wrong.
(but THAT'S another story too)

So, you see I love books!
I love classic children's literature!
 But... 

Is it just me?

Or does the Wren Bird astonishingly sorta resemble a 
Robert McCloskey illustration?

 





Monday, January 9, 2012

Two Months


9lbs 11oz
22.5 in.

Our life at two months:

The Wren Bird took her chubs very seriously this month.
She rocketed into the 20th percentile and has the rolls to prove it.
I waffle somewhere between smug and bewildered that I now use "percentile" in everyday language.


This little girl loves her daddy.
I feedher.rockher.clotheher.changeher.takeherforwalks.readtoher all.day.long.
She's pleasant to me.  She's happy for me.
But the instant the Mister walks in the door, she wildly flaps her now roly-poly arms and squawks like the love child of a seagull and Tickle Me Elmo.
While the time Wren and I spend at the changing table could been seen as a forecast of our relationship in fifteen years, the only sounds I hear from her room when the Mister is home are coos and giggles.
I encourage frequent use of the "Daddy Diaper Patrol."


Because of this shockingly warm winter, the Wren Bird and I went on our first run outdoors in the BOBS stroller.
We call him Bob. 
We're that kind of clever 'round in these here parts.

 

The Birdie got her first shots.
If you think this is bad, you should have seen my face.


In addition to the coos and laughter, that achieve a level of verbosity we're fairly certain has never been and will never again be seen in an infant, the Wren Bird is learning many forms of self-expression.