You shut your face my baby is three months old! I just pushed her out like an hour ago!
Oh my gosh a lot has happened in three months. And also, not a whole lot has happened. I mean, the Pork Chop has changed a ton, but I'm pretty sure there's a pile of unfolded laundry in the corner of my bedroom that's been there since July. She now smiles, and giggles, and farts like a grown man - but as far as me getting anything done aside from nursing and/or nursing, it hasn't so much, uhm, happened. I try! Every day I think, "Today I will do x." And then I head out to do x, when all of a sudden my brain goes, "Oh there's my baby! Let's kiss her and watch her drool! That's way more fun than x! DROOL WATCH 2011!"
But I have started taking tennis lessons again, and running, and baking, and working a few hours a day, and that seems like a heck of a lot if you ask me. Especially when there's drool happening over there!
Now tennis. . . oh my gosh. I'm not what you would call naturally athletic, it's more unnaturally unathletic. Like, holy cow she's really bad at that sport. And that's not even a real sport. That's dominoes.
But, as the father of my child says, I make up for it because I'm enthusiastic. I try, even though my arms and legs refuse to cooperate with what I want them to do. And I get all pumped and excited about it and want to play all the time because playing sports, and games, and stuff is fun! Even if I end up as bruised as the day is long from ping pong! It's still fun! Plus if they didn't want you to dive on the ping pong table to get to the ball, they shouldn't have made it dive-able height, am I right?
Anyway, tennis. I started learning to play when I was pregnant. Probably not the wisest choice since now that I'm taking lessons again I swing wide around where my belly used to be because that's how I learned to hit. I'm pretty sure my new teacher is looking at me like, "Does she have Harry Potter secretly standing right in front of her all invisible like, and that's why she's hitting like that?" (I wish)
So, it's gonna take some time to re-learn some tennis-y things, but it's gonna be fun. And if there's anything I can teach the little pork chop about this it's, "Mama is real sorry if you get her coordination genes and not Dad's supernatural ones. Seriously, he's so good at stuff sometimes Mama thinks he's secretly Michael Jordan and Phil Mickleson's love child. But, even if you do get your athleticism from Mama, at least you'll have fun flailing!" (Because 'fun failing' sounded a little too sad.)
Mom, are you supposed to be falling so much during tennis?
Never mind I fell asleep. Tell me about your lesson later.
You hit who with the what?! HAHAHA! Best. Story. Ever.
It's a different day, and I'm in different clothes, but that's still so funny that you gave yourself a bloody nose! Who does that?
I do Pork Chop. I do.
Oh I love her smiling face so much I want to eat it off!