Tuesday, November 10, 2015


"Can I hold her?" She asked, her hands reaching towards Emma.

I nodded and lifted my fat little squish towards my friend.

I watched them together, half paying attention to the Sunday school lesson being given.

After a few minutes my friend turned around and whispered, "She's so chill."

I nodded in agreement, and took back Emma, who looked blandly around the room.

That's how she's always been.

You know how they say "When life give you a lemon, make lemonade"? Well, Emma IS lemonade.

Sweet and cool.

All day long, she's just as happy and content as can be. It's amazing.

And she keeps this up like a trooper, until about 2 AM and then she turns into a gremlin of the highest order.

I don't know if it's her teeth or what, but she's not a happy camper. So, mommy + baby gremlin = no sleep. I've been very tired for quite some time now.

If she weren't so happy during the day, I might just eat my young offspring, but you can't eat that amount of happy cuteness without getting a stomachache, and so I withstand the urge.

After we got the diagnosis that Emma has hip dysplasia, and that she'd need to wear a brace while she slept, I hoped that maybe being forced to sleep on her back would help her stay asleep.

Not so much. The poor little thing is strapped into the brace, and while it's called "The Rhino," I think it really should have been named "The Saddle" since she looks like she's been riding a horse far too long when she wears it. It effectively isolates her hips and thighs and prohibits her moving either. The only thing moving are her little feet and calves, which she wiggles back and forth vigorously. She's completely fine with it while she's awake. But, when she can't flip over onto her tummy when she likes while she's sleeping, her normally favorable opinion on life, the universe and everything is incinerated by her deep and abiding hatred of not sleeping on her tummy.

But it's hard to get mad at her when it's not her fault.

Besides, once morning dawns she's happy again, and in her joy, she attempts to make snow-less snow angels in her bed.

Her little feet going flippity-flip crack me up. 
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