15 March 2006

Slacker, thy name is Tippy

It's been a while, eh? My bad there. Had a lot going on that has been driving me closer and closer to climbing the belltower and picking off innocent civilians with a high powered rifle. Or at least stabbing the bitch I share my office with, with a letter opener. We're having a free sushi lunch today, courtesy one of the partners, and she's unable to go, which makes me beyond joyous, because now we won't have to find out if it's possible to kill someone with just a chopstick. I bet it is.

I was in VA with the family last weekend, and will be again this weekend, which is fortunate, because my newest addiction/obsession is my nephew, Aidan. There are not words to describe how much I love this baby. This little thing that was not even in my life three months ago, except as "Baby A" and something I made fun of Missy for.

missy, 8.5 months pregnant, and amber trying to find her belly button

I want to hold him all the time. Sing to him, rub his tummy, pat his back, and have him snuggle his head into the crook of my neck and fall asleep. He's all colicky now, and screaming his little baby head off for about 5 hours a day. I've always been one of those "Reason 348,394,347,837,493 Why I Don't Want Kids" type of people. But now, I don't know. Things have changed I guess. I can hold him while he's screaming and the only way it phases me is it breaks my heart because I don't know what's wrong. And usually, nothing is. He's just crying. But that child can cry to wake the dead. And I know his cry instantly. I can wake up from a dead sleep after hearing one tiny wail, which is barely audible upstairs, then stagger downstairs, half awake, and hold my arms out for him. He doesn't stop screaming once I have him, but even though he's screaming in my ear, somehow it doesn't bother me in the least. I rub his little red haired head, sing softly to him, rub his tummy, and coo.

I can wax poetic on how much I love him until there are no words left, and still I won't have covered it. In a time period where nothing in my life can go right, he's the only thing that brings me pure unadulterated joy. I started a blog where I am writing letters to him. I reckon I'll give it to him when he's 18. If you'd like to read it, it's over here but I can't imagine anyone else is all that interested.

Other than that, I haven't too much to write about. I had to postpone the appointment with my neurosurgeon, and that's been rescheduled for Friday. Hopefully a surgery date can be set then, and I will be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

So far, 2006 has been the Year of the ASS. And not in the I'm-getting-mad-ass way either, unfortunately.

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