Holy crap, I think I might be starting to grow up.

Yesterday a scary thing happened to me.

I was thinking to myself that I would like to get a tattoo in honor of my daughter, and I was thinking about what it would be and how it would look and how many hours I thought it would take, so I could figure out approximately how much it would cost.

And then, a part of my brain that must have lain dormant until now, piped up. It said: "Wouldn't it be a much better tribute to your daughter to take that money and put it away for her education?"

Hmm. You make a good point, Mom Brain. But Manda Brain still wants the tattoo.

Now I just have to figure out how much money I need to set aside for Layla before my overpowering guilt complex will relax enough to let me get it.

Growing up is hard, man.

It's Raining, It's Pouring

Today, as I was getting my ladybug ready to go out for the day, I sang her the above line. Then, without even realizing I knew the words, and without thinking about it, I sang the rest;
"The old man is snoring,
he got out of bed and bumped his head,
and didn't get up in the morning!"

Which is when I realized what a horrible song that is. That's a sad story on the 6 o'clock news, not fodder for a nursery rhyme!

"A rainy night ends in tragedy for one area man. Story at 6."

This week was my first week back to work. It hasn't been too bad, although I'd much rather be home with my little girl. I will say this; mommy brain is a killer.

First of all, I've completely forgotten how to do my job. It's really strange that I don't even remember what buttons to press to do certain functions anymore. Also, throughout the week I've forgotten to bring something important with me every day.
Monday it was my breast pump. (I went back for it.) Tuesday it was my phone charger. Wednesday it was a bottle with which to collect breastmilk when pumping. (Boy was that an adventure.) I can't even remember what I forgot yesterday, but it was something important.

Today I forgot to bring food.

Sigh.

Get Onto The Bus...

My little girl is 10 weeks old.

I can't believe how fast the time is going. I just want to slow everything down. And I can't believe how paranoid I am all of the sudden.

I will wake from a dead sleep and go over to her crib to put my hand on her chest, just to make sure she is still breathing. I'm also guilty of never letting her cry.

"It's good for 'em", people like to say to me. In what world? See here's the thing; she's a sweet baby. She doesn't cry all day and she never cries for no good reason. So if she is crying it's because she needs something. Sometimes that something is a snuggle. Who doesn't get a little teary eyed when all they want in the world is a snuggle and no one will give it to them? I think that's a perfectly good reason to cry.

I won't go into the whole birth story, but let me just say this; C-sections are horrifying. Oh. My. God. I wouldn't trade my baby for anything in the entire world, but I could have gone forever without knowing what it felt like to have my intestines in my lap.

Yuck.

Matt isn't around anymore. It's sad that that's the way things have to be, but he just couldn't seem to take care of himself, and I have more important things to take care of now. I can't imagine being away from my baby and not even calling to see how she is...but I guess that's just him. He's not who I thought he was a year ago when we made this little girl.

It's better that I didn't know. If I had, Layla Lenore wouldn't be here with me...and she makes me happier than anything ever has.

She giggles in her sleep. (She hasn't figured out how to do it when she's awake.)
When she smiles she squinches up one eye.
She coos at me when I sing to her.
She loves faces.
She rubs her nose when she's sleepy.
She's my world.