Bittersweet baby

It seems like every day, Mike turns to me and says, "I don't think I've ever seen her be this cute!"

And she is cute. She stands in her exersaucer, and jumps like it's her job, like she's auditioning for a Riverdance tour. She screams and squeals, and she blows loud, wet raspberries, letting spit splatter all her toys. And she smiles. She has many smiles now, including the boy-am-I-happy-to-see-you gummy grin, the I-didn't-know-you-were-watching-me-play bashful smirk, the ahhh-life-is-good-now-what-can-I-play-with? smug smile. That last one is one of our favorites. It's become her signature look. Her lips are pressed together tightly, slightly pursed, but her cheeks and eyes are smiling. She just looks happy. And satisfied.

But I have been finding occasionally, and it's becoming more and more often, that I'm just not as excited about her excitement, or as moved by it, as I have been in the past. Perhaps eventually, your baby's discoveries and developments become almost mundane. Or perhaps I've just been bummed out. I don't enjoy things like I used to, and it's starting to bother me. I think I'm still having a little trouble adjusting to life as a working mother, and Mike's class schedule makes it even harder than it would be. But, at the same time, this week has been the smoothest one yet! We are slowly building a new routine, and getting to bed a little earlier, and we are more prepared for each day ahead of us.

It's a long road ahead.