Happy. Happier. Fulfilled.

Not only do I have the most gorgeous, funny, cute, kind, thoughtful husband.

(A month after we were married, House of Abbud)

But we have the most joyful, twinkly-eyed, half-smiley, giggly little girl.

(Some time in the recent past)

And the sweetest little Baha'i School in our home. Little families coming together with little families to create a more peaceful world. Come join us!

(Today, table made my Sisay!)

Baha'i School

We started Baha'i School every Wednesday at our house. So far it's only two kids with a couple more maybe joining us. We're focusing on acquiring virtues, or 'gems'- the first quote they are memorizing is "Regard man as a mine rich in gems of inestimable value. Education can alone cause it to reveal its splendors and enable mankind to benefit therefrom. They have had fun finding the gems hidden inside our mine/table covered with blankets, Here they are practicing the virtue of friendliness...

Visits from Anna and the Griffin Girls and a Trip to Lake Chocorua

She belly laughed!

9/22/09: A lovely day of parenthood.
Samaya and I had lunch with Daddy at work today. Maybe it was her chiropractic adjustment or maybe it is because she is an absolute DELIGHT of a tiny person, but she was in an exceptional mood. She smiled through the meal, waiting patiently for Daddy to do his daily routine of act-like-a-crazy-person. And when he finally did, she laughed so hard we both nearly died of happiness.
That feeling of intense longing/aching/envy you get when you seen someone else's child and they are so crazy cute that you want to grab them and run far far away? That's how we feel all the time. Except SHE'S OURS. And we can run far far away with her. Whenever we want. It is the best feeling in the world.
Right now she's playing with her pink Victoria's secret dog. Actually playing. With it's legs grasped firmly in her hands, deliberately bringing it to her mouth. Oh the talent.
Love. this. child.

Giggles

Three months already. We now spend a great majority of our time doing just about anything to get this child to laugh. She does do it. Inconsistently. Randomly. Sparingly. And because we've had a taste, we are never satisfied. Sisay will spend long minutes trying to weedle a little giggle out of her, and if he succeeds, will spend longer minutes repeating the same noise/movement/utter ridiculousness until both Samaya and I are very extremely unimpressed. And then I take a turn and repeat the process. Lots of effort for little effect. And completely worth it.

Milestones

Samaya now sits in her bumbo for extended amounts of time, bats and CATCHES her toys above her head in her 'university' (sometimes one in each hand), sticks her finger in her nose (though we think this is when she overshoots her mouth), smiles every single time we look at her, sometimes falls asleep in my arms after about 2 seconds of being tired, and takes pretty fantastic naps. Lately

I've been getting better at noticing as soon as she gets tired and if I act promptly she usually falls right asleep. This particular development feels like eating endless lindt chocolate balls. There is nothing like your child falling asleep without something in her mouth. (There is also nothing like your child falling asleep while nursing.)

I have also realized the absolute motherly need to document all the baby milestones. It doesn't matter how mundane they may seem to everyone else, the sheer delight when your child first reaches for an object or sits up...well its just beyond description. I think we all think our children are exceptional too. And they are. All of them. Especially mine.

It dawned on me yesterday that my daughter is perfect.

Not in the normal wonderouscreationofGod sort of way that every mother is quite conscious of and which forces us to spend several minutes, possibly hours, doing absolutely nothing but stare at our lovely lovely offspring. But in the eccentric, sometimes maddening sort of way.

Yes, she is utterly and hopelessly exquisite. Those hematite eyes that reflect flowers. or passing traffic. or the couch. And oh the tiny heart-shaped lips that suck imaginary breasts in her dreams. And have we mentioned that our wonder-child now blows glistening crystalline bubbles through big sprawling grins directed mostly at her father? And please please don't mention the cheeks that I realized recently I cannot help but kiss EVERY SINGLE TIME I pick her up. It's undoubtedly a stronger urge than her rooting reflex.

There are those, but my daughter's other perfections are like...when my mother comes home from a yard sale with simply THE MOST PERFECT empty cigar box or yard decoration or not-another-candle-holder that the rest of us are simply too blind to see.

For instance, Samaya sleeps a gloriously long stretch of 4-5 hours at night followed by increments of 1 hour until around 8 AM when Mommy simply cannot risk falling asleep one more time only to be tortured awake 30 minutes later. At which point said Mommy gets up and eats her cereal and said baby often sleeps another 3 hours. Now I don't have any idea what logic exists in her pattern, but she whole-heartedly believes it is a perfect one especially since she spends several joyous minutes each morning recounting her dreams to me.

She also thinks it is absolutely perfect to keep a certain portion of my body in her mouth after she has fallen asleep. She lets me know that this is a perfect situation by announcing how absolutely unperfect it is if I remove that specific portion from her mouth.

And I'm sure none of you noticed how her breath smells like peach cobbler or how when she sleeps on her side she clasps her hands together as if in prayer. We both see eye to eye on these particulars.

I especially think she's perfect when she lets out a sharp 'HEY' after she's clearly been up for a while and still nobody is bothering to pick her up. And when she's working up to a really big cry and then remembers a story she wants to tell you and completely forgets that she was moments ago STARVING. FAMISHED. bordering on MALNOURSHISHED for God's sake. And then glimpses her mother's chest before the story is even finished and realizes there is absolutely no time for the punch line. No time at all.

She is bigger than all babies her age. Perfect.

I can count on one hand the amount of times I changed her diaper and there was no poop. Perfect.

She shares my love of Jason Mraz. Definitely perfect.

When she's nursing and Daddy tries to snuggle with us, she kicks him in the stomach. Most definitely perfect.

I have spent way too many minutes of these last seven weeks worried that she's going to get addicted to that pacifier, that none of us will ever get a full night's sleep again because I nurse her to sleep, that maybe she eats too much, and has too little tummy time, and doesn't have enough of a routine in her life.

Then yesterday happened when Samaya and I were lying on the bed nursing. Listening to her adorable nursing noises with my body curled around hers and the end of the day's sun on our toes, I realized this was perfect. She. I. Everything was exactly how it should be.