This morning


...I heard Parker cry at 6:48. He drank seven ounces of milk and sacked back out at 8:15. My house is nearly completely quiet because Jim and Jake are playing Sandlot T-ball (I say nearly because I'm still listening to the noise of an episode of Sell This House on A&E). I'm finishing up the honeybun and glass of lemonade I'm calling breakfast, and wondering if I feel any better than I did yesterday.

I'm also wondering if baseball cleats are even made in a size eight. We went in and out of three different stores late yesterday afternoon, and the smallest we found was a ten. At least we found the pants, the belt, and the socks. I think I may have even screeched when I looked at those itty bitty pants and thought of how I may just eat my first baby whole when I see him wearing them for the first time. Today he didn't, though, because the outfit isn't quite complete.

Today, we also have outside chores on our agenda, and I'm seriously counting on it warming up. And I'm counting on figuring out how to wear the sling I bought to wear Parker on my chest, making me hands free. After watching the DVD that came with it, I think I figured out what I'm doing wrong. Last night was just not the time to try fitting him into it. Nightime isn't a good time to try really anything, but I couldn't stand it. Too bad I hadn't watched the video. Otherwise, my attempts may not have been so unsuccessful. Jim may also not have shaken his head at me so much or given me such amazing words of encouragement like, "You know infants have suffocated in those things, right? I can send you the link to the articles I've read on CNN." Thanks so much, Babe! What would I do without you?

Actually, I really don't know what I would do without him...this morning...or any morning.

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