Oh-well, at least this little guy is happy and I suppose that's all that matters . . .
Our sweet baby James will be three weeks old tomorrow. I don't know what we did to deserve it, but somehow we got a really good baby. He sleeps great at night already, he generally only cries for the obvious reasons, he can sleep almost anywhere through all sorts of noises, etc. I really have no complaints. In fact, I'm kind of paranoid that any day now he is going to pull a 360 on us and transform from a sweet little baby into a colicky one, but that is another story . . . One fun thing we've discovered about little James is that he loves music, especially Christmas music. A particular favorite is "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." If he even gets a tiny bit fussy all I have to do is start singing and he will almost immediately calm down (good thing he doesn't know yet how horrible my voice is). The only problem is that I seem to have forgotten the words to most children's songs. I can't get through the intro to "Rudolph" without naming Comet at least 2-3 times; "Rock-a-bye Baby" (you know, "in the tree top") has completely taken on a life of its own. I sat and tried to figure it out with Brian for about 5 minutes yesterday and neither of us could come up with the right words (I'll google the lyrics later). I even tried to sing a couple songs my grandmother used to sing to us when we were little and all they did was made me teary eyed missing my grandma (the squirrel and pigeon song for any cousins reading this). Until I reacquaint myself with songs from my childhood, do you think he'll mind if we sing him Black Eyed Peas instead? "I gotta feeling" that tonight's gonna be a good night?


For the past month, Brian and I have been praying for this little guy NOT to come early. Brian had sporadic residency interviews all across the country and every time he left we prayed our hearts out that this kid would hold out just a little longer. We may have prayed too hard. I think our little buddy has permanently ingrained in him that he needs to stay put. Now that it is safe for him to come, he seems perfectly content where he is. If he doesn't come on his own over the remainder of this week, they are going to induce me on Monday morning (which terrifies me). Let the fun begin . . .
This is the angle where I look absolutely ENORMOUS. When I look down at myself I don't look that big, straight on, still not that bad, but simply twist to the side and BAM it's mortifying! Thanks, Andrea for insisting on taking the picture. I'm sure some day I'll thank you. Some day.