So the new year happened. We wouldn't know, as we slept right through it. In bed by 11 p.m., actually. I guess we missed J-Lo in some sort of a bodysuit and there was no kissing or Auld Lang Syne or confetti or champagne, but that's perfectly ok by us. Because despite the fact that there was no actual new year celebration in the Morillo household, today begins the most important new year of our lives. We are now parents.
This fact is slowly seeping into our brains, not quite replacing the disbelief and amazement that immediately followed Anika's birth, but rather making these emotions a part of daily life. To whit: I could be an Olympic medal holder in a baby-staring competition. If I put her down for a nap, I'm constantly checking to make sure she's still breathing (and then I stay awhile to marvel over her little doll face, her folded arms, her delicate little feet buried in too-big socks, and her tiny ears). While I used to sleep as if in a coma, now I'm up at the slightest little sigh or kick of her perfect skinny little legs. Cooing and talking in the third person are no longer weird. Diaper changes don't gross me out. In fact, we consider it a high form of entertainment when her gastrointestinal system is working in overdrive and we can literally feel her pants vibrate. She has distinct facial expressions that foretell what's to come: a wail when she's hungry, a whimper when she wants to snuggle, a round little mouth when she's working on an output (followed by a grimace and a wiggle of her chipmunk cheeks), and wide eyes and arched eyebrows when she's focused on something like the pattern on the couch cushions or mommy's ridiculous faces to distract her during diaper changes.
And today, she smiled. Three times. That smile could create peace in the Middle East, create a global climate agreement, and change Ahmadinejad's mindset towards his people.
I'll try to capture it on camera, but for now, just take my word for it.
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