24.12.09

Week Three: The Finley Files

Ah, Finley, Finley, Finley...

How is it that every day you get more and more charming, delightful, hilarious, and heartwarming? Every moment with you feels like a corny Kodak commercial from the 90s. I half expect a little old man to appear in the corner, blowing out his 90 birthday candles with a gummy smile while two granddaughters with flour in their hair cut the cake they spent all afternoon baking. It's that sweet--each second with you is enough to make Janeane Garafalo wax sentimental about your itty-bitty precious toes. You switched your days and nights a bit, driving Mommy a little insane. I always thought I could deal with sleep deprivation, but when it's three weeks in a row... Well, let's just say it's tough when your life hits the reset button every two hours, and that's what it is. Every two hours, life gets reset to you on the boob--and then it starts over. It's like Groundhog Day. Only my skin is slightly better than Bill Murray's, thanks to leftover pregnancy hormones.
This week, you have:
Participated in your first fiesta/surprise party/worn your first moustache
Began to discover your ears and hair, especially when you're eating
Taken three sink baths, which you LOVE
Met your great aunts, great uncles, and cousins and been passed around more than a bong at a frat house
Received your Social Security card and therefore became a valid American citizen
Had your first major diaper blowout, which shot up your back and into your hair--you talented girl! Who knew you could poo with such force? This could be an indication of your future fury in sports!
Revealed that you do, indeed, have my hands... It's the pinkies, my dear. They're not my hands, either, they're your great-grandma's. Our pinkies curl up when we hold our hands a certain way. Just check out the pictures--see those pinkies? And your fingers are long, so you can be a pianist... or a pickpocket. By the way, you have your daddy's feet. My hands, his feet.
Made Mama pee her pants while nursing you when you honked your own nose, then screamed in anger at whoever did that

Smiled coy little half smiles at Grandma, Grandpa, Aunties Hannah and Emma, and crazy Uncle Keaton... but saved the gigantic grins for middle-of-the-night feedings with me... thank you for that
You've become your own little person. You no longer look like a carbon copy of me or Ricky (people think you're one or the other depending on if they're Eagars or Turners), but you look like... Finley Mae.
GiGi and PaPa still smother you every chance they get. They're a little jealous that we're not shacking up with them. GiGi made you the most gorgeous quilt for Christmas. Someday you'll have your own bedroom with those beautiful colors, and you'll sleep under that quilt every night.
We're so lucky to be living with the people we're living with. On one hand, I sometimes daydream about being in our own space, with your dad there to burp you at 5 am after you eat. But I could not handle this mommy thing without each of our family members, Fin. They hold you, rock you, talk to you, read to you, sing to you, take you so I can get a few hours of sleep. They love you. And no one needs a mommy like a new mommy. It was tough for Grandma to be in the room when you were born, because I was bitching and groaning... It's hard for a mom to see her daughter in pain, even when it's good pain like childbirth. But Grandma was a trooper, and I couldn't have brought you forth without her.
Having you has made me realize my own worth, Fin. I look at you and realize how my own mother feels about me... And it takes my breath away. Someday I hope you get to have a daughter, so you can gaze into her eyes and realize how much I love you.
All my love,
Mommy
P.S. We listen to Christmas music on the radio when you nurse, and when Celine Dion sings, you stop nursing and look up at me like, "What the hell?" You are SO my daughter.

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