Angel baby

You know how I know my daughter is a fat wee angel sent from heaven?

When her nose is full of snot, so much so that when she nurses or tries to suck on a pacifier she has to cough and sputter to breathe, and I have to suction said snot out with our baby blue bulb of an aspirator, what does she do? She lies very still and tries to contain her glee while I stick the business end up her nose and slurp out a watery load, and then she laughs like a maniac and looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to do it again. She'll do this TWELVE OR MORE TIMES IN A ROW.

I think I'm in danger of losing my best friend who has a normal baby that spits up and refuses to sleep. She's angry that I didn't tell her how hard parenting would be. It's hard...but damn. When you have a kid that loves to eat, bathe, sleep and get her nose suctioned there isn't much room for complaint. She'll probably give us hades to pay later (we wait for it as she's an Aires) but for now I'm gonna enjoy the hell out of my cushy momhood. And be sure to call my friend and complain when she has a rare sleepless night or temper tantrum.

Speaking of aspirators, I'm four and a half years older than my brother. I remember very little about his babyhood. (He's kind of forever locked in my mind as an 8-12 year old. When I dream about him, he's almost always that age. After he passed that age I was a completely self-involved high schooler and then I went away to college and never really got to know him as an adult. But I digress). How come I don't remember that much of my brother cooing and crawling and grinning, but I vividly remember the rust-colored aspirator and white pasty Desitin my mom used to use on his butt? I remember the smell of his changing table better than I can remember the fat little legs that used to kick around on it.

Fat little legs kicking on a changing table...god, I love my daughter!