Don't Eat Angry
6:29 PM
Have I ever told you how . . . um . . . active Bean is? She is always moving. The bigger she gets, the harder she is to hold on to. Especially since with bigger comes stronger. Bath time wrangling has become a serious sport.
Strangely, so has nursing. Sometimes she is calm and it is the sweet, quiet, relaxing time that you read about, well, I don't know where. I've read about it on a whole variety of blogs. There's probably books and stuff that talk about it, too. Maybe reading about breastfeeding isn't really all that common. It has become so for me. Anyway, sometimes it's all sweet like that. Other times it's an adventure. She talks and growls while she eats. She flaps her available arm and leg about (This is one reason that covers and I are not friends. The waving material acts like a flag and actually draws more attention to us. Bean has yet to comprehend modesty and discretion). Often it's not her flapping limbs about, but using them to try to climb up me. She's even hit my collarbone with such force that's she's bruised me (just barely and just once, but still)!
Also, notice the gripping of the shirt. That is the hand Wonderman and I used to call "The Modesty Hand" because she would put it up over her face while she ate, which also covered up any part of me that could possibly be showing. Now it gets called "The Immodesty Hand" because she uses it to grab my shirt and pull it as far out and down as she can.
Not related to wrangling of any kind, I would just like to make sure you notice the awesome difference in skin color between the two of us. I know she's mine because I was there when I birthed her, but she isn't quite as obviously (to the untrained eye) mine as she is her father's. When I had my hair in braids, a friend of mine described my appearance as "ethnically vague." As much as I identify myself as "white," Bean and I definitely appear to be of not entirely the same ethnicity. Weird.
Conclusion: True love is much more than skin deep.
Not related to wrangling of any kind, I would just like to make sure you notice the awesome difference in skin color between the two of us. I know she's mine because I was there when I birthed her, but she isn't quite as obviously (to the untrained eye) mine as she is her father's. When I had my hair in braids, a friend of mine described my appearance as "ethnically vague." As much as I identify myself as "white," Bean and I definitely appear to be of not entirely the same ethnicity. Weird.
Conclusion: True love is much more than skin deep.
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