Young Old is now well into his first week of life, and we're just now getting the hang of this parenting thing. Thankfully, we've figured out a few tricks to calm the little beastie boy when he's fussin', which means a lot more sleeping on his part, and a lot more downtime on ours. Knowing full well that this is a luxury to be enjoyed while it lasts, we relaxed like retired folk, i.e. lots of naps, wordy magazine articles, and untold episodes of The Sopranos (thank god Young Old can't understand English yet, but I bet his first words are delivered with an Italian-Jersey accent).
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Somebody call the Millennium Falcon...their Wookie is on the loose. Hlaarraaarrghhhh!
Grandma and I catching up on bad fantasy novels while Young Old slumbers.
The Hair, pre-bath. Greasy Italian genetics definitely representing.
Young Old's favorite place to rest his cantaloupe.
Reading thought-provoking articles out of Harper's magazine when your brain is mimicking a Slushy machine is probably one of the most difficult tasks we've faced thus far.
Yes, having a newborn is a lot of work, and you're so tired you feel like someone upstairs in the skull room accidentally hit the auto-pilot button, but don't let anyone ever tell you that there's no time to do your own thing. I thinks it's a lie, perpetrated by the parent generation as a form of birth control. One just has to be creative.
For example:
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