Amateur Champion

One evening in the car on our way home from dinner at my in-law's house:

"Could you just tell me when you're not tired? Please stop telling me when you are tired."

"Did I just say I was tired?"

"Yes. And you've said it about four or five times already tonight."

"Oh... sorry... didn't realize it." (Obviously because I'M TIRED).

"Yeah... you also say it about four or five times during the day, too... so I'm just always going to assume that you are tired unless you tell me otherwise."

I can honestly say I had no idea how plagued my speech was; I suppose my broken record started to sound like nails on a chalk board. I don't blame him.

In other news, I've passed New Mom 101. After one of Corinne's baths last week, I was proceeded to rub her down with lotion (sans diaper), per our usual evening ritual. Being our child, she passed some pretty foul flatulence. Thankfully her little toots dissipate quickly, so I commenced with the lavender-scented baby massage.

If only I heeded our dear daughter's warning signal! She fired off another one; and before I could let out an "oh my!" she proceeded empty her bowels.

But did it get all over the towel, bed, and me? No way, Jose! In my ever-evolving mothering skills, I grabbed a nearby diaper and got it under her sweet little bottom in the nick of time. Operation save the sheets was a success!

Also of note last week, she basically slept through the night once. This resulted in my bringing bagels and cream cheese to work in honor of the event.

Needless to say, I'm celebrating the little victories these days.