My Girl

What in the world about my child is an invitation to touch her or get in her face and squealing with delight all while talking like a small child and mentioning the obvious?! I know she's cute and all, but A) she is NOT yours, B) we do not know you, C) I do not know where your grubby little fingers have been that are currently touching her hands...which end up in her mouth, and D) do perfect strangers come up to you and do that?

Didn't think so.

My poor child is bound to be dressed up in frills, lace, bows, and pink until she starts resisting my attempts, because lets face it, she's only gonna let me dress her up for so long. And I'm most definitely enjoying that while I can. We didn't know if we were having a boy or girl, and of course I didn't really care either way, but I did always envision the ways I could play dress up with a baby girl (moreso than a boy), and now it's hard for me to even imagine that there was a possibility (and I was just certain) that she was a boy.


Our lazy day yesterday turned into us packing up and heading to the basketball games. I wasn't getting much accomplished with her anyways, which is fine, because I love my baby snuggles on the weekend, but I thought we might as well go join company rather than bumming around home watching bad television.

We didn't get home until midnight last night-it seems to be impossible for me to remember everything I need (and let it be known, I still didn't get it all done) when I'm out the first time or second, third, or fourth time. That's what happens when I wait to get things for weeks at a time. We've been lazy at home today, though, so we have more than made up for or running around this weekend.