Tree!

I suddenly feel so much more Christmassy.

I just couldn't face baby's first Christmas without a tree. My sister-in-law, who is an absolute rock, offered to buy me one while she was out (since I am essentially housebound for the near term) and let me pay her back for it.

She picked out this very lifelike tree, prelit and everything, and brought it by last Thursday. I couldn't have picked out a nicer one if I had been able to go out myself. Tonight, my nieces came by and helped us put it together, and the Christmas season at our house has begun.

I can't tell you how happy I am that I can take a picture of her with our Christmas tree this holiday season. If I can get out of the house to do a little shopping, just imagine the underside of the tree spilling forth with Bri presents underneath.

Limbo

Enough about the baby for now. Let's talk about me.

I am in clothing limbo. Nothing I wore during the pregnancy really fits without being oddly billowy about the tummy, and nothing I wore before the pregnancy, well, zips quite yet.

Yes, I am still going to shrink a bit. Things don't go back to their normal state right away, and I probably have the odd 10 pounds to lose before my pre-pregnancy clothes fit nicely even after everything shrinks back down that's going to shrink down, either on its own or through exercise once I get the okay to do that.

It's odd how many symmetries and parallels there are in this whole deal. Bri is spitting up a fair amount, getting used to eating her new food, just like I spent the first five or six months of the pregnancy throwing up all the time. She used to wake me up from the inside in the middle of the night kicking, and now she wakes me up from the outside to feed or change her. I had to go to my doctor all the time leading up to the day she showed up, now she has to go to her doctor all the time to make sure she's okay.

This is my least favorite one, this having nothing to wear yet again. I ran out of clothes after my stomach got to a certain size on the way up and I spent some time in too-small-for-maternity-clothes, too-big-for-my-clothes limbo. Now I'm back in it on the way down.

I Have the Sweetest Baby Ever

Do you know how freeing that is to say that?

I told myself I wouldn't be one of those parents, bragging about how their kid is clearly the most brilliant, beautiful, wonderful being on the planet. Boy, is that annoying when people do that.

However, if you were here to listen to the noise she's making right now, you'd understand. I'm sorry. She's clearly the sweetest baby ever. She's cried about four minutes in the past twenty-four hours. I realize this could change, but I've been told that the baby's personality and temperment is truly being established in this first week of her life. If she was going to be a cranky baby, she'd be showing signs of crank already. Instead, she coos and clasps her hands against her chest, and cries just long enough for someone to address whatever the problem is and then she clams up.

Sweetest. Baby. Ever. Sorry, I'm also the most annoying parent ever. Be glad I'm not in the same city with most of you to force you to oooh and aaah over pictures of her in my wallet.

You Know What's Crazy?

There is a being on this planet who can be crying one moment, and then stop the next...just because I stroke the hair on her head. Not just anyone stroking her forehead. Me stroking her forehead.

This, of course, doesn't work every time. Nor does she really cry that much, knock on wood. But still. Mind blowing, that something like that would ever be enough to work even once.

Thank goodness all the books say that you "can't spoil a newborn" now. Because I'm not sure either one of us could help it if they didn't.

Guess Who?

Please help us welcome Brigid Lorene, born on December 2, 2005. There's a baby somewhere in that blanket, I promise.

She's home, I'm home, and so is the mister. All three of us are doing really well, though it is a tossup which one of the three of us is the most tired. I think Bri might be just edging out Tom at the moment, but I could come from behind any moment now to take the crown.

Talk to you all later—somehow the internet doesn't seem all that interesting at the moment.

What Kind of M*A*S*H Person Are You?

The Hallmark channel just rewound to the beginning of series one of M*A*S*H, which I usually have on in the background between 5 and 6. This got me to thinking...you can tell a lot about a person by what kind of M*A*S*H person they are. Are you a:

1. Frank or Winchester?
2. Trapper John or BJ?
3. Henry or Potter?
4. Margaret: the Frank era, the Donald era, or post-divorce from Donald?
5. Company clerk: Radar or Klinger?
6. Cross-dressin' Klinger or not?

These are important questions. Take your time and really think about it. I'll post mine in the comments.

Butterfly House, Mark II

During the Thanksgiving weekend, I had another excursion to the butterfly house. I discovered that it is much busier on a Saturday afternoon of a holiday weekend than it was when I randomly went in the middle of the week, but it was still quite nice.

Here are some of my best shots, which I can show you this time because I actually remembered to take the camera with me. Several of the shots were ruined because it's hard to keep the lens clear in the humidity, but I like all of the following ones: