today will be better. because i say so.
Well, I don't know about you but I've had just about enough of being kicked about by the world. Now it's time to put away the tissues, and start kicking the fucker back. Fear me and my pedicured feets oh world!
The baby is brilliant and Z and I continue to be very attached to him and to each other. Thanks to this spirit of benevolence I'm even prepared to forgive the baby for that one-hour feeding stint he pulled at 4 am yesterday and for his general bad attitude of being less about the sleeping and more about the partying.
Matei has had his first bath which he seemed mostly confused about, but Z and I interpret the lack of the screamings as a positive sign. My son continues to have skinny little frog arms and legs although he looks like he is trying to turn his double chin into a triple. I am charmed by this and his kicky flaily little feet and by the string of grumpy old man faces he pulls when troubled by his digestive system. I also hope that some of my life's blood the milk he manages not to projectile vomit will find its way to his thighs to increase their nibblability (because if the child expects to be fed at 1-2 hour intervals I expect to see a return on my investment).
The other positive side of having your body sustain a bottomless opposum is that I can feel myself becoming a little thinner every day.
Bonding with the offspring
Baby: *gurgle*
Z: This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy read newspapers. This little piggy did puzzles. And this little piggy *thinks and flails*....is just a little piggy.
Orthodox Christmas rolled around a few days ago and to celebrate we dressed the child up in a Santa outfit his father acquired in H&M for £3. I love the fact that Z and I are on the same wavelength about this, because if you can't use your own child to further your amusement then a) the cats suffer and b) what the hell was the point of growing one for the better part of a year?
A few days before the baby was born
A week postpartum
The baby is brilliant and Z and I continue to be very attached to him and to each other. Thanks to this spirit of benevolence I'm even prepared to forgive the baby for that one-hour feeding stint he pulled at 4 am yesterday and for his general bad attitude of being less about the sleeping and more about the partying.
Matei has had his first bath which he seemed mostly confused about, but Z and I interpret the lack of the screamings as a positive sign. My son continues to have skinny little frog arms and legs although he looks like he is trying to turn his double chin into a triple. I am charmed by this and his kicky flaily little feet and by the string of grumpy old man faces he pulls when troubled by his digestive system. I also hope that some of my life's blood the milk he manages not to projectile vomit will find its way to his thighs to increase their nibblability (because if the child expects to be fed at 1-2 hour intervals I expect to see a return on my investment).
The other positive side of having your body sustain a bottomless opposum is that I can feel myself becoming a little thinner every day.
Bonding with the offspring
Baby: *gurgle*
Z: This little piggy went to the market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy read newspapers. This little piggy did puzzles. And this little piggy *thinks and flails*....is just a little piggy.
Orthodox Christmas rolled around a few days ago and to celebrate we dressed the child up in a Santa outfit his father acquired in H&M for £3. I love the fact that Z and I are on the same wavelength about this, because if you can't use your own child to further your amusement then a) the cats suffer and b) what the hell was the point of growing one for the better part of a year?
A few days before the baby was born
A week postpartum