I've been trying to start writing this for at least 23 minutes, but Cari and Bonnie are being super entertaining over on facebook and completely distracting me. I can't just walk away from a Paul Simon discussion. I can't! Which is why I'm listening to the entire Graceland album again right now. I'm serious...it's become an addiction or something. My newborn daughter is going to know every word to The Boy in the Bubble before she's out of diapers:
These are the days of miracle and wonder....don't cry, baby, don't cry.
Okay, here's a conversation that just happened between the 2 year old, sometimes referred to as "Cecilia" but henceforth referred to as "the Sleepless Wonder of No Sleeping who Refuses to Sleep because she's Clearly Made a Pact with Lucifer":
daddy: Hey, I'll read you your nap time story.
child: No! I don't want a nap!
daddy: Okay, fine. Chevy will read you a story. Did you know she can read?
child: No she can't! She's just a dog. She has no hands. She just has paws-es
*sigh* If only the dog had hands...
Just look at this picture of sleepytime wonderment:
Baby Mary is 7 weeks old today and slept for SEVEN hours straight last night. Seven! And look, she's so chubby! And precious! And adorable! And delicious! Do you know who did NOT sleep for seven hours straight?
Let's get serious for a second. Remember the other day when I wrote about my friend Rachael and her unborn baby with Trisomy 13? First of all, thank you all for your words of support and your contributions to their fundraiser (you can check out the widget on the sidebar over there). Secondly, please go read her response to the outpouring of love and support she's received. Click here and read it. Really. But get a kleenex first. So moving....
Also, I had planned on started the evil 30 Day Shred with the evil Jillian Michaels after posting my embarrassing "before" pictures, but, like, there were all these kids demanding unreasonable things from me, like food and unsoiled clothing. And dogs who wanted to be fed. And emails making that little beeping sound into my phone all afternoon. And then someone would cry and I'd have to look at her in the mirror and say "Snap out of it woman!". So I put the baby into the carrier and swayed back and forth while answering emails standing up at the kitchen counter instead. That's pretty much the same as an actual workout, right? Great. I'll be in beach volleyball shape in no time!
I've never actually played beach volleyball.