"you have to be always drunk"

Liv wakes up in the morning with an expression on her face that i would kill to catch on camera.* here's what i think she'd be saying if she could speak English like a normal person: "This is wonderful! YOU are wonderful! now you're going to feed me? Okay! WONDERFUL!"

to get the full effect you have to imagine it in Luke Wilson's voice. ("Denver! Gorgeous!")

i know i'm putting a lot of emphasis in the text. but it takes a lot of italics and bold caps to describe how it feels to wake up to this kind of reception. non-parents, imagine it this way:

it's like having your boss make all your coworkers stand up and clap for your performance (as coincidentally just happened to eric); or, having men on the other side of the street yell, "you are BEAUTIFUL!" when you are just strolling down the street minding your business and looking hot (as coincidentally just happened to lauren. of course, it is possible this is the same man who later urinated in front of me, but probably not. probably he was a talent scout for a major modeling agency).

you can see why i need some validation to feel competitive.

so i am proud to announce that Wee has recently graduated from the pterodactyl school of vocal performance. she delights us nightly with joyful songs and recitals of edgar allen poe's, The Raven.

=

*********

back to my angst. you might remember the moment from the movie, Finding Neverland, when J.M. Barrie says that young boys [and girls] should never be sent to bed because they always wake up a day older. i get that. i am just so reluctant to move my baby bundle out of our bed and into her own. but then Little sneaks into our room at 5:30 am, kisses bim, and positions herself horizontally on the (formerly sleeping) persons she lovingly refers to as "my flammy." and i remember why they invented cribs.

i guess it's a fight that nobody can win: the unbearable sweetness of tiny versus the breathtaking wonder of growth. time just takes what it wants. but i think i may have found a solution: Be Drunk

thanks a bunch, baudelaire. i wish to be drunk on the deliciousness of my little girls. and diet coke.

*but, seriously. sleeping with the camera in the bed is another step closer to becoming insane lady scrapbooker. our ship (aka, our bed) is probably one photographic apparatus shy of sinking under the already ridiculous weight of toys, diapers and mandatory baby detritus. it's not hastening anyone off to dreamland--we leave that to the coma-inducing circus of activity our girls provide. our mattress should be advertised as fully accessible to toddlers, irresistible to infants & sleep-optional.

"quoth the raven, nevermore."