The clouds heavy with threats of rain and seemingly laced with tryptophan, acting like blackout curtains in our cozy bedroom. We need the rain and we need the rest, so we use the excuse wisely and drift off, baby with her chubby fingers splayed across her soft belly, her arm rising slowly with every breath she takes, me with my book before I can't stand to keep my tired eyes open for a moment longer.
These teeth? They are ruining my life, one sleepless night at a time. It must be like that whole thing about forgetting just how painful contractions are so you go on to have another wee one. I don't think Ruby ever let on to being this miserable, bless her little teething, quiet heart.
Between that and the need to slip away into lands of fiction until the early hours of the morning, I haven't exactly had abundant hours of sleep. Someone slap me with the teething wand the next time my brain even registers the words baby and fever.
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The Olympic music seems to bring a burst of pride to my heart. I spent Sunday corralling unruly children and haphazardly watching swimming and gymnastics Olympic trials. I can't wait to find myself immersed in the five-ringed swells of pride at the end of this month when the full fledged athletic fury hits in London. Last time I was pleasantly pregnant, awaiting the birth of my first child.
We made our annual trip to the zoo last weekend. Covered in sunscreen and excited faces, we met all the animals in some of the most gorgeous weather.
Eisley decided feeding giraffes was worth a try, and worth a second chance, but definitely not a third. Ruby let her cautious side get the better of her with the giraffes, though she shocked us all when she rode Ranger the pony.
Man Sickness has hit our house. If there's a man in your house, I think the details can be imagined without mention. Let me just say how thrilled I am that this happens so infrequently.
Rubyisms:
My grandma spent the night in the hospital last week with heart pain. When I was talking to Ruby about it, I mentioned that her heart hurt and that we should say a special prayer for her. She said, "Well, what did she hit it on?" She did pray for the doctors to make her heart strong.
We have been working on pulling off a reasonable amount of toilet paper because Ruby will be off to school this fall, and I want her to be independent in that department. Bless her heart, the OCD that fills her little mind gets her so hung up on how many little squares to tear off. I have caught her tossing it in the toilet if she doesn't pull off four because she didn't get the right amount. She asks every time she goes how many squares she should tear off, and then proceeds to get somewhat panicky if she only pulls three or accidentally gathers five.
When reading last week in bed, Ruby asked me to shut my light off and put my book away because I was making her nervous.
Am I raising an 80 year old?
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