A Successful First Quarter!

So without having a clue what we're doing, we've managed to keep Emma alive and well (and happy) for three whole months! (Not that I thought we wouldn't, but... well, we're very new at this.)

Anyhow, I've been planning on setting up this blog for a long time... way back when I found out I was pregnant (that was in February of last year) I really wanted to write about my experiences, thoughts, and feelings while gearing up to meet and greet my first child. Unfortunately my head was in the toilet for the first three months, and I slept through the other six, so that never happened. So now it looks as though it's going to be a blog on my new life as a stay-at-home wife and mother, and how I'm mananging my way through both without having a clue what I'm doing.

I don't really know where to begin, except to perhaps brief you on a kid we call Emma. Of course she's beauitful, smart, funny, talented, can skate figure 8's, has made the dean's list, and well.. I could go on and on. I guess that's the point of this blog... I will go on and on, and then on some more.

Emma Mckenzie was born exactly three months ago today, November 2, 2004 at 9:01 am, to myself and my husband Jeff. To be blunt, she's amazing. (Hmm.. think I'm biased?) She(usually) doesn't cry unless she's hungry. She laughs alot. She loves hanging out in her swing. and even better than the swing is her change table. I truly think she loves her change table more than myself or her father. But that's another issue... She also sleeps for about 12 to 16 hours a day. And to top it off (and to explain why most of my friends hate me) she has even been sleeping through the night (6-8 hours at a stretch) since she's been 2.5 months old. Unheard of!!! (Well, maybe not, but I'd like to think so.) All said, this whole parenthood thing has been really easy. From what I hear, God only gives you what you can handle... apparently we can't handle much. Fine by me!

Only one problem... Emma is a puker. A full-on projectile barfer. Complete heaving after each and every single feeding. The kind of barf that flies over my shoulder and splatters all over the wall (or couch) behind me. Or in the pot of chicken soup on the stove behind me. Or even on Daddy's head when he perched her on his shoulders. But hey... everyone has their schtick. Barfing is hers. And my God... she's good at it. The champ. She could win awards. Golds please, no silvers or bronzes for my baby. Yes, like I said, we're very proud.