The Gramma has been here for a week and like, holy shit, healthy time away from Lizzie. Not in a see-ya-I'm-off-to-the-bars way though. More like "We aren't touching, yet we both continue to exist in this dimension without our heads exploding!" So I have basically sat on my ass and converted O2 to CO2 since Sautrday. Scrum-didly-umptious!
It's different from Stephen being here. I mean, he's great and all, youbetcha. He will change the Hiroshima of poo-splotions and go right back to eating his chocolate pudding without skipping a beat. He will sop up barfed milk and walk a screaming baby around. He's really awesome, but he still needs supervision, per his instructions.
The Mama-in-law, on the other hand, is total tag team perfection.
Gramma's got her.
Am I using this well deserved break from marathon parenting to catch up on the blog or, I don't know, exercise? No.
Mostly I'm surfing the web for funny shit or playing games on my iPhone. Real life-enhancing/personal development stuffs. Don't judge me...
So, for lack of motivation, I will simply "blurb" (quick blog) some updates in bullet form.
1. Lizzie is 3 months old. (well, more like three and a half since this entry is so late)
We recently celebrated our 100th day of her life a few days ago (triple digits SHAZAAM!) and I can't believe the difference that 100 days has made. Lizzie is fully incorporated into our lives. Her bubbly morning coos kick start my day and her contented sigh as she sleepily comes off the boob and slips into dreamland signals day's end. The moon and the stars revolve around her and shrines have been built to honor her many chins and rolls. She is the baby "standard" that all other baby's are measured against. This is scientific fact. Undeniably. My days are spent holding her, laughing with her, loving her, sniffing her bum (did you pee? is that pee? do I smell pee?) and feeding her boobie milk (of which a good 37.2% goes directly down my hooter and pools on my shirt in huge crop circles (Honey, are your boobs leaking? No. They must be crying from all the overtime they put in.)
2. Exactly a year ago I peed on a stick and it said Congratulations your baby maker has been activated. And unlike the few times in your life when you pee on one of these babies and pray that you are coming down with something like the flu or food poisoning and NOT parenthood, I really really really wanted it to be positive. Like more than anything. I had finally gotten Stephen to say we could stop The Pill and here we were, 3 weeks later, at our first opportunity to maybe "be with child". I remember thinking "Yes!!" and "Here we go, Baby Rollercoaster!" and "CAPS LOCK HOLY SHIT un-caps lock!" (and a year later, we still sometimes experience those HOLY SHIT what are we getting into moments. Translation: Daily.) Trying to imagine the awesomeness and cuteness of my baby girl a year from NOW? Harder to fathom than the vastness of all the universe. Her adorableness makes my brain hurt.
3. The movie of my life is currently in musical form. We sing everything. I sing and make extremely exaggerated facial expressions and act absolutely enthralled by her every movement. We have these long drawn out one-sided conversations about cooking dinner and vacuuming and laundry. I sing to her while I'm in the shower, poking my head out of the curtain, trying to keep her entertained long enough to lather my hair and sort or rub the foamy water sort of in a circular cleansing motion as it streams down my body. I sing to her when she is so exhausted and can barely keep her eyes open at nap time yet she continues to fight sleep like she might miss something and I say "time to go night night" and she looks up and screams as loud as she can, IN MY FACE, and I sing back to her, lovingly, "someone better go the hell to sleep or momma's gonna beat her with the be-good-stick, I swear to God", (again, lovingly). I sing to keep her occupied when I set her on the cold bathroom floor so I can pee because, well, she can't be unattended and I can't wait 10 hours to go pee. Therapy fodder, let me tell it to you.
4. She also has this new thing where she laughs and then immediately gasps air like she's dying. It sounds like when they show dead people on movies and they zoom in slowly really really close and then the dead guy's eyes pop open and he gasps for air. Like the dead awakening from a peaceful century old slumber. Yeah, THAT sound. She laughs or coos and then sharply takes in air and then does it again. The first time I heard it, I thought she had asthma or sleep apnea or ANAPHALACTIC SHOCK! But she just kept smiling as my saucer-sized eyes slowly relaxed and she seemed rather pleased with herself and I thought "OMG she knows she has the power, and we are all doomed." It's pretty cute.
That's all for now. She's causing a disturbance in the swing and making that whiney noise that vibrates at the harmonic frequency of my brain matter, slowly turning it into grey colored goo.