No More Raspberries. I Mean It.

Leelo's trots woke him up at 3 A.M. He never went back to bed. He did, however, wake Mali with his yelling, so I got to crawl back into bed to nurse her to sleep while Seymour played Zombie Dad with Leelo until the rest of the household awoke. I am getting tired of my role as the bearer of soporific udders, but in this case was blatantly grateful for the out. And grateful to my partner for not calling me on it.

Leelo was pretty much physically present but mentally removed all day. Still some good language, but hard to get it out of him. Hopefully a good night's sleep will make all well.

Iz seems to have forgotten that adoption, like reproduction and politics, is an ask-permission-first topic. On our way out of Iron Gate, I introduced our oldest girl to Jane the nursery aide (she for whom Mali screams like a demon each Monday). Iz proceeded to tell Jane how she was the oldest child in our family but not her Mommy's oldest child because her mommy had had a baby a long time ago and had given it up for adoption. This just as two more Iron Gate parents were walking by. Jane took it in stride, I laughed awkwardly and mumbled something about information overload.

Mali really is terrifically clever and wonderful. I can say this with oomph because I do not know any other babies to compare her to, nor have I been reading anything about babies' development. So I can declare it amazing that today she vocalized, "Hi, Jo!", chased Merlin around the living room while growling at him, and properly draped herself with a beaded necklace three times in a row. Because no other babies have ever done anything so tremendous, not in the entire history of babies.

I am fretting about her less. I am relishing her seemingly typical babyness.

Went to a school board candidate's salon tonight. Very edifying. Brilliant people, almost all women. Included Ep, who had dragged me there.

To bed.

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