I'm New Here

Le hub mocking our master, Olive.

Never in a million years did le hubs and I think that we would become THOSE people. You know, gushers. I find myself plastering Facebook, Twitter, and all email correspondence with Olive's face. Apologies, friends and acquaintances. Apologies, Olive. But it's like that old Whitney Houston song. "I get so emotional, baby... Every time I think of you ooh-ooh-OOH... Ain't it shocking what love can do..."

With the arrival of the munchkin, our world has been turned upside-down, inside-out and round and round. The house looks like it imploded (empty Amazon boxes formerly filled with baby gear are scattered everywhere, not to mention used Kleenex from wiping her spit up), le hub's car is in the process of getting switched out for a larger, safer vehicle in which to transport the kid and all her gear, and oh, I should probably point out that I am physically ruined. Since Olive's delivery, I've been walking about with hard and heavy melons for tits paired with ravaged nipples from breast feeding, sporting 24 extra pounds from the uber-rich Chinese post-partum "diet" of fatty soups, and have worn nothing but high-waisted sweatpants since my return from the hospital. I fit nothing else and could not be more unattractive. But I don't care.

Baby girl, you are the Master of our Universe (He-Man reference!). You may have the entire household running on empty, but daddy, Beans and I all love you. (Cue Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely")