I, Robot.

I am a milk machine.  The past few days have been getting better due to a new system, but I’m still feeling a little less than human.  My sleep has vastly improved (but I believe at a cost to Ian so I’m going to have to re-evaluate the system).  Neither parent is sleeping in an actual bed.  Olivia isn’t either, for that matter, but I’m working on it even now.  She is currently sacked out in the crib just over my shoulder and has been like that for over an hour.  My incision is healing very well and I’ve been off the pain medicine for about half a week (not even the ibuprofen!).  The area just around the cut is still pretty numb and I get the occasional twinge and ache when I turn or sit up, but nothing I can’t handle.

Olivia is fabulous.  She is beautiful and unintentionally funny, making faces and strange noises at all times.  When she cries (thankfully fairly rarely), she sounds like a tiny velociraptor from the movie “Jurrasic Park”.   She is a never-ending black hole into which milk disappears at an alarming rate.  She looks like her mommy except I do believe she’s going to have her daddy’s coloring.  When her eyes finally decide what color they want to be (right now they are stubbornly gray), I’ll know for sure.  She’s my favorite human being on the planet.  I mean, just right up there with her daddy.  Being a parent is still a little surreal and there are moments when I question my good sense for becoming one, but for the most part this falls under the “Best-decision-ever” category.


2 responses to “I, Robot.

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