Raquel!!

I didn't get a chance to say how much I love the pictures, and now I can tell you "in person." You look lovely, and Mal is just too cute.

Can we start setting him up with Princess Ticky Box yet, or is there already a match between PTB and Isaac?

Perkins! How's the new life! Good to "see" you too, babe.

I don't know if Plei will want PTB to get involved with Captain Babypants - he's a bit of a womanizer. For weeks his favorite room has been the guest bathroom, where he can stare forever at a painting a friend of ours did. It's of two naked women making out. We joke that he's thinking "Chicks! Cool!" (actually, he's probably thinking "FOUR boobs?!? Bliss!")

I feel less guilty about the small amount of tummy time we give her now. (Not that I felt very guilty about it to start with, but hey--validation that I'm not keeping her from learning how to push herself up.)

Same here. Mal hates the tummy time, and his awake windows seem to be better spent with other stuff. Like paintings of women making out. (It's a very colorful painting.)

Have I mentioned at all how completely terror-filled I am at even the thought of anything happening to my kid?

You do know that I started having anxiety dreams about Emmmett six months before he was born, and up until he was two? At least once, maybe twice, a week I'd wake up in a panic thinking he was smothering under the covers. Even before he was born. Even before I knew he was a He. This is what I came to think of as the Yoke of parenthood. It weighed on me.

Surprisingly I was fine during all the nose-breaking incident. (Though stressed afterward.) But thinking about him getting the corrective surgery? Pure torture. Even as minor as it as.

A daughter of Plei and Paul's, and a boy who appreciates the femslash and the boobs? I think that could work.

Life is pretty good. The new job is going okay. Well, really, except for some tech issues. I like the people, and where I am working.

(actually, he's probably thinking "FOUR boobs?!? Bliss!")

BWAH! I bet!

Lily does this thing where she grunts and growls like a fierce pig while nose-diving toward boobie bliss. It's most amusing.

You do know that I started having anxiety dreams about Emmmett six months before he was born, and up until he was two? At least once, maybe twice, a week I'd wake up in a panic thinking he was smothering under the covers. Even before he was born. Even before I knew he was a He. This is what I came to think of as the Yoke of parenthood. It weighed on me.

I feel refreshingly normal, then. My anxiety dreams pre-birth were all things involving blood; my scare in October had me so rattled that when I saw blood in labor during a potty break (incidental TMI to follow) right after I physically felt the mucous plug dislodge, which, I must say, was a weird thing to feel, I actually felt a moment's panic. Of course, the nurses were all happy, as it was at that point a good sign, but still.

Damn, this girl is a noisy sleeper. She's right next to me, and it's like someone turned on sound effects for a monster movie.

DAMN, you baby-having folks are adorable.

Aren't they just?

I'm just popping in one last time to say goodnight (or good morning)! I finished my project, yay!

Thanks for the help, Plei, Eddie and Cass. It was much appreciated. My head thanks you. My desk thanks you.

Fay! Perkins!

I have to go to bed now. Dang it.

G'night love!

You know, being back on dial-up is good for me. I was getting cranky with the slow page loads on my website, so I just spent the morning streamlining it. (And only Fay of those here also thinks it's morning).

One of the cats who lives in our backyard is getting ready to have kittens. She appears to have chosen the embassy-provided deck furniture as her place. I'm not sure when she's actually due, but she is showing major cat skills in having picked the only thing that's got a nice white fabric cover for the messy event.