My mother’s family has a particular brand of baby talk, as I imagine lots of families do, and part of ours include special names and pronunciations of things, and I have recently been calling up one of them – my yumpy sock.
A “Yumpy sock,” or “Lumpy sock,” it aptly describes the state of a newborn: small, light and not a lot of neck or muscle control. Just a small little lumpy sock that rests in my arms or on my chest.
My Wee One is still in that lumpy sock stage, and I love it.
Having a schedule for her is good. I miss being pregnant and I still love my belly. Every time I leave the house, I am continually reminded of some of the uglier things about the world today – abandonment, violence, exploitation – and I want to curl up and keep her from that. I don’t want her to get harassed on the street. I don’t want her to get bullied or to bully people.
I love watching her sleep. Love her little expressions. She purses her lips like a bird and lifts her eyebrows. She also lifts her little hands to her face in a certain way – we think she had her hands by her face in utero, but it’s such an affected look – it’s precious. I’ll try to draw it soon.
I want to say that things are going well here, and they are in the sense that I’ve kept her alive for two weeks at home. 🙂 She’s content, she’s gaining weight and she likes it when I sing to her, especially Ani DiFranco. I know I didn’t invent motherhood or anything, but I’m pretty sure this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done.