The way babies are made

God knew what He was doing when He designed infants. Obviously this applies to a lot more, but we'll stick with young 'uns for the moment. When first born, there's this weird rush of hormones that has you sitting on the edge of your hospital bed just staring at the rise and fall of your newborns chest, no thought of being tired even though you haven't slept in 3 days or nights. And then after day 5 you're full of paranoid thoughts that has you convinced, though you'd love to put her down so you could nap, that a giant eagle is going to swoop in and snatch her if you take even one finger off her (please tell me I'm not the only one who was sure this would happen). Just when you're about to crack from the lack of sleep and the fact that your arm has gone numb from holding this bundle for 2 straight months, she smiles at you. And then you spend the next 3 months doing everything you can to make it happen again. Finally, at 6 months of age, you've regained control of yourself. You know she's too big for an eagle small enough to fit through your window to lift, you know SIDS risk is greatly reduced, and you're desperate for a pedicure. Should be simple, right? Leave her with one of the many (very kind) folks that's been clammering to watch her for you and take off for a few hours. She won't starve, you won't miss a huge milestone since she's not due for any for a bit, and she won't notice you being gone because (according to baby-care books) seperation anxiety won't hit until age 9 months. HA. Maybe it's because she was so overdue when she finally made her appearance, but Henri has full mastery of that particular milestone. And while I fantasize about getting my hair done or even eating a full meal in more than seven minutes, I have to give credit to a pretty ingenious creation. God knew I would have left her at the firehouse a few times there, or been one of those moms (you know who you are!) who "forgets" to get their kid from nursery until the irate worker seeks you out. So while she's pretty capable of existing for a reasonable amount of time without me glued to her, the temptation would be there to stretch that time out. And God decided that babies need their mom for the first full year of their life.
All that to say, I'm hoping to leave Henri with my folks and all of her aunts (6 of them!) and uncle (the cool, semi-scary, tatted up one) for a few hours in the evening so that S and I can have a date when we go home for Christmas. I don't know what to do on one anymore, and I doubt we have anything to talk about, but that will be OK because I'm fairly confident there will be a phone call 30 minutes into it to tell me my daughter is having an epic meltdown.

Completely unrelated, but we're still waiting to hear back about a house in Waltham we offered for. I think temporary insanity hit both of us, and the chances of us getting it are extremely minute, but if we do....well, this blog is going to become more of a "before and after"...with the "before" tempting you to call CPS because we even dared to bring Henri through it on a tour. There will also be a new cast of characters including Chambers, the orange cat that clearly belongs to the house and thinks we belong to him, and the racoon currently residing in the attic. Also an ancient asbestos covered furnace, two rotted out bathrooms, unidentified 2-year old stuff in the freezer, moldy windows, curved walls, marble thresholds, an awesome offset fireplace, two (!) staircases, one with insanely gorgeous carved details, a possible pantry, the need for complete replumbing and wiring, a total paint job, hardwood floors to drool over once they get stripped, insulation to lay, four bedrooms to configure, an extra room that will hopefully become the library/music room (should I paint it a deep green or more of a neutral tan?) a huge garage and a small garden area. Now if it'd only come with a secret stash of 50K that we unearth we'd be all set. Should know by Thursday!