Shaky Egg

(And this one I’m definitely okay with)

Babies must and will be spoiled, cuddled, and exclaimed over, long and loud.

I have done my duty this weekend. We went to Louisville to see my brother and his wonderful wife and their completely adorable seven month old baby. Of course all babies are adorable to me. But this kid is jollier than Old King Cole. He has wonderful fat thighs and a beautiful shiny white round bald head and he sings and talks all the time, dab dab dab dab dab dab DAAAAAB! He moves his mouth around in the most adorable ways, and when he smiles, which is at least twice per minute, his whole body convulses with good nature.

He is loved half to death by his parents, who work different shifts to keep him out of child care [I cannot imagine how they do it! and I am so proud of them!] so he’s not missing any love, but still, my mother and I did our professional duty and spent the whole weekend coo-ing and cudding and dab-dab-dabbing back.

You know how they pay people to mourn at funerals? Well I could definitely do professional exclaiming over, cuddling, and admiring babies, long and loud. I am good at it. I’m cheap, too.

I love all babies. I never thought I would say this out loud… I used to love newborns. Holding a newborn on my chest, long before I even had or even thought I’d ever have one of my own, made my blood pressure instantly drop and my ocd resolve into tranquil understanding of What Really Matters. Aaaah.

So… I’m exhausted.

My parents since Tuesday. Sixteen hours worth of road tripping since Friday- absolutely worth it but oooohhh soooo tired. And now it’s back to work. I’ll be glad to just sink into my week, with no comment, nothing constructive or negative to say, just, the slide.

In other news, thank you M and M for your wonderful support re the marital aid. I am beginning to get over it. I’m just thanking my lucky stars it did not arrive while my parents were here to intercept the mail man.

Tuesday night my general smart cool people book group talks about AS Byatt’s Biographer’s Tale. Thursday night my mom’s group has our monthly craft night, which is really gossip, giggle at our husband’s expense, and commiserate/support/catch up, eating night, with a little crafting on the side. Busy week! And I won’t talk about the sparks flying at my job. Til later.