Two Auspicious Events

I believe I have mentioned that Gillian, like her father, sleeps like a lead brick. Or maybe I haven't mentioned how hard she sleeps, just how long she sleeps (which is still, knock on wood, happening). Before bedtime, after she is already down for the night, I go into our bedroom and pump. The pump is right next to her head on my bedside table, and with all the "er-eee-er-eee-er" sounds nary a stir from her. Amazing. So, last night we got to test my theory that if a freight train went through the bedroom, she could sleep through it (or maybe not a freight train, just something really loud). Enter the fact that our box spring has fallen off the frame on Sean's side twice in the past few days. Apparently, in the 30s when they made this bed, full mattresses and box springs were about 2 inches wider...not wide enough to be a modern queen side, mind you, just wide enough to be an annoyance getting a modern full side mattress set to fit on. It is a beautiful antique bedroom set of mahogany, so the bed frame is wooden...and we thought we were clever when we screwed a stainless steel wall corner to the inside of each side so the full mattress wouldn't fall through. Without going into detail, let it be known that I never thought the stainless steel piece was quite wide enough to provide a completely reassuring slumber, but I digress. So, the point is, when we went to bed last night- "CLUNK! THUD!" the boxspring fell through the frame to the floor. CURSES (silent)!! We both immediately looked at G. Nothing. Now, what should we do to try to pry the box spring back up through the frame, particularly with the creaky headboard (which is problematic under certain circumstances)?. Well, we took a deep breath and I tried lifting the mattress while Sean tried pulling up the box spring. "SCREECH!!!", said the headboard. Gillian leisurely stretched, sighed, then nothing. We decided we had to lift the mattress off of the frame and lean it over the footboard to really deal with the box spring. More knocking from the headboard. Nothing from G. After much prodding and grunting, and cursewords (under our breath, of course. don't you remember our New Year's Resolution?), we managed to unwedge the boxspring from under the frame. After a few screeches and knocks, and the entire frame hitting the floor in a series of thuds during the prying out, we repositioned the box spring on it's precarious perch (maybe a 1/2 inch actually ON the metal on each side) on the metal frame attachments (yes, we certainly were clever). To this, Gillian sleepily opened her eyes once, stretched, sighed, and was still. We moved the mattress back, climbed into bed, and we all went back to sleep. Gillian officially sleeps like a lead brick. I have empirical evidence to prove it.

Second Auspicious Event. Yesterday was bath day. I usually get in the tub with Gillian because I think we have more fun that way-she can move around in the water and I can not worry that she is going to drown. I knew it was going to be extra fun (no sarcasm this time) because I laid her on her back on my belly and she laughed that cute baby laugh when she realized she could splash when doing her full body smile (that is a smile while kicking ones legs and flailing ones arms). Bath time is a family affair, so Sean pulled up his wooden "camp/festival" jam chair and the games began. T gave us this really cute little pelican and sea animals bath set when you can manipulate the pelican's mouth to "eat" the sea animals, which are very cute little plastic floating caricatures of a shrimp, a crab, a fish, and an octopus. When the pelican eats one, it comes out his bottom (kinda realistic, I thought). So, Sean started swooping the Pelican down to gobble up a sea creature, then pulled him up above the water, made him chew up the sea creature, and splash!, out came the unfortunate casualty to PLUNK! into the water. Well, this was clearly too hilarious for words, or even a regular baby laugh. Gillian gasped, giggled, belly laughed, and out and out hooted with delight. It was the most beautiful moment!! (more like 10 minutes, because we kept doing it because 1) she loved it and 2) we were highly entertained by her reaction). Enter evidence of punctuated equilibrium in Gillian's cognitive development. Also, enter the same for the depth of love we are drowning in.

As I sat around last night feeling damned grateful, an old favorite poem came to mind:

She is standing on my eyelids
And her hair is in mine,
She has the shape of my hands,
She has the color of my eyes,
She is engulfed in my shadow
Like a stone against the sky.

Her eyes are always open
She will not let me sleep.
Her dreams in broad daylight
Make suns evaporate,
Make me laugh, weep and laugh,
And speak without anything to say.
-Paul Eluard