It's 9:30pm and I just finished work. Ryan's been yelling at the Lakers and Nuggets all night, my mom's been kindly slaving away at dinner and I'm not yet ready to face the mess in the living room, so here I am.
It has been a lovely and dreamy 2.5 weeks with Baby Kalei. Let's see, she was born on April 30th at 3:41am, so that makes her almost 3 weeks old. She's already showing signs of "Earthliness" and losing (though not really) her "Heaven Lustre." I tell people who complain about the same thing that that's why we keep having babies.
She sleeps most of the day, and at first was up a lot during the night. She had some kind of allergy-sniffly thing that made it hard to breathe. We tried to remedy it with a humidifier, but it seems to be going away without the humidifier, so, hopefully...
There's something about a new baby in your home that (especially this time for me) seems to pacify all my worries and complaints. I'm sure my husband and mom--somebody's--noticed, but maybe we don't want to jinx it away by talking about it. I just love it. It's during times like these that somebody secretly whispers in her prayers that she'd have a thousand more if she could.