She loves the nightlife, she's got to boogie ...
She's definitely not boogieing now, just snoozing in my lap. Though I have the palm of one hand against her side and I can feel something flurming away in her intestines.
If Lee were still here I'd make her take one more picture. Matilda's sleeping with one fat cheek pillowed on her fist and her other hand reaching across and touching the fist-hand's elbow. She looks rather like a marble bust of a very portly 19th-century philosopher (except rosier).
I'm just about completely pain-free. God bless the makers of Vicodin.
Man, I've missed all y'all (though I could feel all the good wishes and ~ma washing over me all Monday and Tuesday, and I totally would've been posting while in labor, except that the hospital had net access but no laptops for patient borrowage).
Babyguts still flurming, so I may have to leave soon, but first:
1. YAY msbelle! YAY mac!
2. Thus far, no fangs. And I should know, being that it's my breasts she's gnawing at at 2:30 a.m. most nights. Even with my crazy pain tolerance, I think I'd notice.
3. Scola, be prepared: when Lee left, I told her to give you a big fierce hug from me when she sees you. There may also have been an order for a sloppy kiss; I don't quite remember. There's a lot of hormonal wackiness ensuing lately.
4. Jesse, see the warning to Scola.
5. Emmett is indeed the sweetest kid in the history of ever.
6. I LOVE EVERYONE.