I'm somewhat at a loss.
Aislin has done some amazing things recently. She's crawled a little bit, even. When she went in for her second flu shot, she didn't even cry. She's been fairly amiable and cheerful, but never so much that it gets old. She loves fake coughing. She's discovered a fondness for dolls, and ever since has been getting a new doll every week. There's so much.
Last weekend, we finally had our house-warming party. We found out that our apartment living room is not as well-suited to entertaining large numbers of guests like our old one. With everyone there, it felt a little cramped. Still, we had a good time. My friend Eric pointed out, during one of the many interludes during which Aislin took center stage, that watching her try to crawl was incredibly suspenseful. It sounds ridiculous, but it's totally true. She kneels there in a crawling position and rocks back and forth until she falls over. Each time, you think "Oh, this is it! She's going to do it! Maybe this time she'll finally do it!"
One afternoon, she was playing with her green ball -- it's actually MY green ball: it's a ninja turtles ball from when I was a child -- and it rolled out of her reach. She adjusted herself into her crawling position and reached out for it. She touched it just enough to push it just a little further out of reach. So she moved her knees and reached out for it again. This process repeated a few times and I knew what I was seeing, though I don't think she knew what she was doing. She hasn't really done it since.
Our good friends Joel and Heather are moving to Pasadena even as I'm typing this. There was a going away party which included a white elephant gift exchange. At this party, during one of the break-off-into-small-groups-and-chat segments, Aislin looked up at Joel from her mother's arms and waved and said, "hi." Joel's eyes reportedly popped out of his head. I'm not sure why I didn't see it; I must have been thinking about something else.
Like this lump on my belly. A few nights ago, I discovered I have a lump on my belly. It's not sensitive, and I'm seeing the doctor on Monday, but still -- disconcerting. Lumps aren't good. A lump of coal is good. A lump of flesh is not good. Read Merchant of Venice if you don't believe me.
I have all of these ideas and ambitions. I have ideas for stories and ambitions to blog more often and write more and transcribe more and be a more profitable member of the family. But Aislin wears me out. The only time I really have to write is after everyone else goes to bed. And why aren't I in bed? That's what I want to know. I'm exhausted.