September 17, 2009

Today is Constitution Day. Also Adelaide's first birthday. Downstairs, I can hear Daddy shaking the rattle in front of your face. We went to the Cow this afternoon and sat in the sun, drinking wine and beer and staring listlessly into space. You slept in your car seat. Later, Greg and Grete and Carsten joined us. Carste ate animal crackers and crawled around under the table. Then he would wander to the edge of the outdoor deck until Greg or Grete had to call him back again. He is covered with bug bites from the sandbox (one on his forehead and one below his eye) and he is testing his boundaries, seeing how far he can go before he is called back into his parents' sphere.

In the corner of the living room, the balloons Grandma Gail and Grandpa Michael bought for you are beginning to deflate, sinking down just slightly as though their worldly burden has gotten heavier. The bouquet of flowers from the St. Olaf Community is steadily losing it's members. Now just the yellow daisies are left; Grandma Ricki cleaned all of the brown petals from the tablecloth and freshened the water before she left today.

You were fussing downstairs only moments ago, but now Daddy has managed to calm you, probably by jiggling and walking and shushing or maybe just by laying you face down against his chest. You are content there and often sleep against him for hours.

We are now approaching 36 hours of successful feedings! You are latching on like a champ, though sometimes you still need a few drops of milk dribbled onto my nipple to get you started. Nevertheless, Mommy is a much happier camper.

What else? So many little details of the day that somehow seem precious: Luxy waiting outside the closed door of the nursery in her anxiousness to see you; your tiny feet with flaking white skin emerging from the cuffs of your enormous pink pants; your scrunched form and scrunched face inside the Ergo Baby carrier; the cold taste of the bread of my egg salad sandwich; the silver bangles on the gypsy scarf which Grandma Ricki draped over my shoulders. Then we turned up the "Forrest Gump" soundtrack and danced and jingled our way across the living room.

It's dark now. Downstairs you keep moving in and out of tears. There is a fresh glass of water on the nightstand and all the blankets in the house are clean.