Fat and Annoying

Sydney is getting...girthy. Her enthusiasm for consuming food is unmatched. UNMATCHED, PEOPLE. She will eat 99% of the foods she is offered, and never tires of packing her little face. This is a quality I greatly appreciate in a child (and a friend). All of this gorging gives her boundless energy, and although she is quite rotund, her skinny arms and legs propel her around my house like a pudgy bullet.

We went out to eat last weekend, and Sydney was ecstatic to be fed both her baby food bits and bits of all of our lunches. She couldn't decide what to focus on in her delighted greed, so she filled both of her fat fists with bits of chicken and bread, and then proceeded to lean down and goose peck (with alarming accuracy) cheerios off of the table with her little lips. Dan and I had to scoot back from the table to laugh. Needless to say, I no longer wear mascara to meals with this child.

She is also disconcertingly preceptive and is quickly learning how to manipulate all of the members of this house...even the dogs. She knows that she can sneak them anything she doesn't want (which isn't much) at the table, and that they will lick her fingers clean should they invariably get covered in cereal and/or mashed vegetables. It has taken her 10 short months to learn that Mommy will laugh at anything, even if you are in the midst of getting in trouble. (I myself am impressed that I managed to hide this fact from her for 10 months.) She likes to pinch me to see how mad I will get, and even tucks her little lips in to make her mouth into a determined line as she tries to sneak those tiny fingers in for a nasty tweak. I have had to resort to pinching her back to get her to stop. I can assure you that she does this deliberately to annoy me--so she fits right in in this crowd.

There are no words.

Finally. There is a word...a word that definitely has new meaning in my life. I have so much to say about my new daughter that I can barely settle on any one thread to explain myself adequately, much less as extensively as I want.

So I will start with this: Sydney Michelle Tarkenton burst into this world at 6:52am on September 30th. She made a swift grand entrance (thankfully!) and it was as easy as I could have hoped for, especially given her stats: 9 lb, 1 oz, 22". I was only in labor for 5 hours and change, and only pushed for 10 minutes! God, you have my sincerest thanks.

She is thus far a magnificent creature who rarely cries, and when she does it is so sheep-like and sweet that it doesn't send me cringing to a heap on the floor like baby Jack's cries did. Instead I can smile and reassure her and she JUST STOPS. I didn't know that they made babies like this. During my entire pregnancy I fervently prayed and hoped that I would be blessed to have a non-colicky child this time; to have a baby that I could coo over and enjoy as opposed to someone who made me flinch and cower with his loud and angry tirades that often lasted over three hours at a time.

Although baby Jack is often maligned in this family, CHILD Jack is so amazing and smart and funny and heartbreakingly cute that he has more than atoned for the mental and emotional reign of terror that he mounted for the first 6 months of his life. He deserves a break after the way that he came into the world--5 days in the NICU, reflux disease, medication, eye-problems, and two new idiot parents. He has earned his stripes.

But this new one...this little, tiny woman-child who grunts like a pig to be fed and sweetly sighs in her sleep as if she's singing her own ongoing lullabye; this tiny bundle of the sweetest smelling fuzz and tender skin who SLEEPS for HOURS at a time; this little extraordinary being is improving my life with her every breath and noise. Her sweet, sweet presence is like a healing balm that rapidly oozes into every crack and fissure that has ever threatened to break my heart. I wonder if there are enough cheesy and sentimental words to explain how I feel about her, how serene and amazing and PLEASANT she is. I feel more than blessed. There are no words.

(PS. I will be sure to come back and read this when she is 13 and surly.)