one week

Yes, it's true.  There is a baby at our house.  She arrived quickly and gracefully on a sunshiny morning, the day after Mothers Day.

In spite of her high-pitched wail and general failure to accept responsibility for her own actions, we have decided to keep her.  She makes us smile and laugh and cry.  She makes our world so much bigger and so much smaller at the same time.  Also, we cannot stop looking at her.

And she is already seven days old.  She has a whole week of living under her belt.  It's hard to believe.  She has habits and hiccups and a beautiful name that we hope she'll grow into someday--although for our purposes here, we'll just call her M.

I was going to bake something to celebrate her first week.  Like cupcakes.  But then I remembered that babies can't have cupcakes, which means that I would have to eat her cupcake for her.  That just seemed like too slippery a slope to descend this early in the game.

So we'll probably do something else to mark the occasion.  Like maybe give her a bath.  Or trim her incredibly long fingernails.  Or just sit around on the couch staring at her some more.  Because we've gotten very good at doing that.

Of course, I have lots more to say.  I want to tell you about the day she was born and all of our exciting firsts and what it's like to be at home alone right now with a tiny baby that allegedly belongs to me.  I'll save all of that for another time, though.

Today we're too busy doing nothing.