Tattoos and Drool

Over the hump

So, did anyone notice anything special about the picture I posted? Anyone? Bueller?

Look a little closer and you’ll see that my baby girl’s scrumptious cheeks are RASH FREE! Thank you, Aveeno baby wash and Hydrocortisone cream. No more angry red hives or crusty ears. Now I can move on to worrying about other things, like that annoying flat spot she’s developing from having a right side preference, or that her poop may possibly not be the right shade of honey Dijon yellow. Lets hope I learn to stop obsessing over everything by the time she’s twelve.

My emotional state has improved tenfold in the past week or so. Thanks, in part, to a massive blow out in which I aired all my thoughts and fears to DH and he thankfully didn’t declare me loony toons and run for the hills. And also thanks to a baby who sleeps amazingly well so I haven’t had to deal with any sleep deprivation thus far.

I used to think that a newborn being a good sleeper was a myth and anyone who said they had one was lying through their teeth (although I still secretly hated them and wanted to land a swift punch right in their well-rested eye). A quick read through my archives will have you understanding the sleep hell I dealt with when Beckett was a baby. But Avonlea is different. I now know that easy babies DO exist. I also know I had every reason to hate those bitches because it is A-FLIPPING-MAZING. You’re free to hate me, too. But I was about due for an easy one this time around, if you ask me. DH is loving it too, because it means he doesn’t have to walk a stroller around the block at three in the morning every. single. day. Thanks for that, Beckett. Yes, the man is a saint.

I should probably stop talking about it now, because my superstitious subconscious won’t stop whispering that it’s going to come back and bite me in the ass in a couple months. That’d be my luck.

We have a busy weekend ahead, filled with cleaning and packing and my first Tupperware party tomorrow. (Which, by the way, if you’re just dying to get your hands on some air-tight-sealed goodness, jump over to my website!) Avonlea has an appointment with our chiropractor tomorrow afternoon to deal with this pesky side preference. Sunday will be devoted to packing, making lists, checking off those lists and then checking again to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything, as well as cat-proofing the house so they can’t destroy anything while we’re gone. And then we’re leaving bright and early Monday morning for the 8-hour trip to the land of cheese curds and no cell phone service, aka Wisconsin.

Eight hours.

With three kids.

I have a feeling the DVD player in the Pilot will become my new best friend, so much so that I may want to name my next child after it, much like babies end up being named Bob or Gary thanks to a good anesthesiologist. Samsung Melban has a nice ring to it.