Wailing In The New Year

Rosie's Hat

Abby in a bonnet that Grandma Rosie knitted for Aunt Sarah in 1960!

Happy New Year!

Here I am, finally back at my desk! I meant to blog over the break, I swear. But every time I got near my computer, someone spit up on me. As of today, she’s officially five months old!

Sheesh, time really flies like a banana! Or wait… Anyway, I saw my friend’s adorable one-month-old on New Year’s Day, and I was like “WHAT the HELL is THAT?!” I can’t believe I survived that. I mean, Abby may wake me up multiple times per night to nosh or get a diaper change, but she also gives me this amazing smile and grabs my face and kicks her legs and holds her head up… I love five months old. Come to think of it, I love five months pregnant, too. Now that I think of it, May is a nice time of year. Five months is just good stuff all around.

The Abby update: She doesn’t quite sit up, but if I prop her up just the right way, she can balance on her knuckles like a little bald ape. Then she falls over and Penny goes, “Oh no, Abby sideways!” She can do several minutes of tummy time at a stretch, and pushes up on her hands to do a neat cobra pose (for you yoginis out there). She makes great dinosaur noises that sound like words, “aw-oh-wow-oh!” and gets very, very happy when she catches your eye. And very, very sad when she realizes nobody is nearby.

She weighs about 14 pounds and is strong, strong, strong. Her eyes are a warm chocolate brown, like candy, and she has a wide, tall forehead like her great-grandma Rosie. Wherever her sister is, she turns in that direction and reaches out, chuckling with joy. She is fabulous.

Anyway, our New Year was just as you would expect from me: messy, funny, unglamorous, and joyful. Randy was out performing two comedy shows, so we were on our own … usually dealable, but Penny had had a long, late nap, so she was nowhere near ready for bed. No problem; it was a spesh occasion, so we hunkered down on the couch with her special blanket and various pillows and comfortable items of that nature and watched Spongebob till it felt like our eyes would fall out.

Spongebob! she yelled, holding her finger aloft and gazing at the screen as if he had actually walked into our living room.

Abby eventually nursed and went to sleep, and I quickly bundled her up and put her in the co-sleeper. “Come on,” I said to Penny. “Let’s get you to sleep.”

She turned off the TV (“I did it!”) and we thumped down the hall to her room, where she finished off her bottle in record time and put her head down. She was out. She was snoring. Then I heard Abby rustle and wake up. Penny picked up her head.

“Hey, I’m gonna put you in your crib, everything’s okay,” I whispered.

“No. No. No!” She clung to me. I am bad at panic. I am not one to peel a child off me. “Okay, come with me,” I said.
Confused, she followed me, not quite understanding who was crying or where she was going and terribly upset we weren’t in the rocking chair. “No! No! Mommy, seat!” she wailed. “WAAAH!” Abby answered. “I have to feed the baby!” I explained. This only made things worse, and at 10:30 on New Year’s Eve I was sitting in my bed with two little girls wailing heartbreakingly despite the fact that everything was totally fine. I was grinning like an idiot because it was so ridiculous, hilarious, and sweet. And within a few minutes, Penny was snoring on her dad’s pillow and Abby had nursed herself back to sleep. By the time their dad came home, Penny was back in her bed, Abby was in her sleep-sack, and we were toasting the new year with a peach Lambic from Trader Joe’s.

Happy new year, mamma jammas!

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