Dear Buddha, please bring me a pony and a plastic rocket...

Baby's first Christmas (part 1).

Maybe we should have considered these before we chose the name...

It's a slow day at the office. Here, in no particular order, are some anagrams for Ruby Emma deBaryouknowwhat Gethepicture:

A Barbecued Lemon Myrtle Zing
Sounds delicious! Of course I prefer my lemon myrtle zings sautéed, but to each his own.

Breadcrumb Me a Linty Lozenge
Much like Lord, beer me strength, this is an all-occasion call for patience and forbearance. Or maybe just a way to request a lozenge -- and don't you hate when they get all linty down there at the bottom of your purse?

Gun Troll Can Bed a Breezy Mime
Those breezy mimes are so slutty.

Droll Nun Begat Crazy Bee Mime
People, this is why nuns--even funny ones--choose celibacy. Not to honor God; it's because their kids turn out all effed up and become things like bee mimes.

Run, Embraceable Glitzy Demon
Run, run for your life! I am the unhuggable dowdy demon-slayer, and I will vanquish you!

Damnable Entrée: Cozy Girl Bum
If pervy priests had a menu to order from, this would the special of the day.

Be My Rice Maze, Not Lard Bun Gel
Because, see, I'm full up on lard gel for my buns, whereas I have always wanted a rice maze. You'd be doing me a favor really.

Amenable Girl By Rectum Dozen
Girl, if you're that amenable, I'd get away from the rectum dozen, like now.

Sleep now or forever yada yada yada.

That's my advice for pre-parents: Sleep now. Even if you're not sure that you want kids, bank up on it. Even if you plan on never having kids, sleep extra for the rest of us. Because sweet Jesus, parenthood is great, but it is exhausting. This is coming from a gal who is sleeping eight hours a night -- eight solid, hard hours -- and is still scraping the bottom of the energy barrel.

Once you get past the sleep deprivation from the early months (which just leaves you punch drunk and numb) there's this weary, bone-deep fatigue. I've figured out where it comes from: There's the physical exhaustion -- lifting a 20 lb. (!) baby, getting her in and out of car seats, picking her up from strollers, cribs, and the ground 100 times a day; even the diapering* umpteen times a day is tiring. Then there's the mental exhaustion -- you have to be alert and on all the time, or at least all the time that she's awake. (There's the old adage that you should sleep when the baby sleeps, which is fine if you're a napper, annoying if you're not.) So even if you're getting a decent night's sleep, your day-to-day life wears you out.

Partner this weariness with the mania of the holidays (when did this happen? I used to love this time of year, now I want to mow down shoppers in parking lots like they are ripe wheat and my Subaru is a John Deere), and you get something that approaches burn-out.

The irony is, the thing that actually makes the holidays the most fun they've been in a while though is Ruby. She's so much fun that even as I'm getting more tired, I'm absolutely reveling in all of her new discoveries. Watching her examine a door hinge makes you think, "Well, damn, door hinges are rather remarkable, aren't they?"

Excuse me, but my daughter's waking up. I need to go let her show me something new and fantastic. And then I have to go stare off into space and reharness my chi.

*For the record (actually for you, Kim-Kim), I use Seventh Generation diapers. I've tried others, both "good" and "bad," and these both work well and alleviate my eco-guilt. (I did consider cloth, but we'd have to use a service, and I'm more concerned about global warming and water conservation than I am about landfills right now. Either way, diapers are the devil's work.)

Swing-a-ling-a-ling.

The other day, Ruby was extra fussy (teething we think), so we took her to the park to distract her. The swings did the trick. Also, as I have just realized that I usually post pictures of her making funny faces, this is proof that she's a smiler from way back.

Lewis and Clark, surveying the wilderness before their sojourn to the baby swings.

Too fast, too fast, too fast!

Watching the daddy in the next swing over. The little girl on the left is also a Ruby.

The rest are just her being ridiculous. Yes I posted a lot of basically the same picture. Suck it. There are subtle nuances to appreciate here. BTW, more than any other pictures I've taken of her, these totally capture the Rubylicious Rubyness of my little girl.

Balloonatic.

You know what are really great? Unblown-up balloons. They're just so smooth and unblemished. They're a little stretchy, but not too much so. They're firm. In an unblown-up balloon there's masses of potential -- parties yet to be held, fun yet to be had.

But you know what people love even more? A blown-up balloon. Now those are really wonderful. Full -- of air, of happiness, of life! So festive as they bob along. Kids love them. Cranky adults get a smile on their faces when then look at such a nice, round balloon. Who cares if it's rubber is getting all stretched out, right? So much good is coming of it, and it makes everyone happy!

But eventually the balloon deflates, and it gets sort of saggy. Kind of wilted looking. Wrinkly. Thin in some places, thick in others. Stretched out. Pouchy. Sad.

But people tell the balloon, "No really, balloon, you look great." Or, "You look like this for a good reason. I mean, my god, you were inflated to bursting practically." Or, "Give yourself some time." But these are just perfunctory courtesies, the balloon knows it. The balloon also knows that if it just worked out a bit, did some sit-ups, or maybe tried pilates, some of that tight smoothness of unblownupness might return. But the thing is, the balloon is just so tired. And on top of that, the balloon just has so much to do now: ever more laundry to wash, breast pump accessories to sterilize, sleep to catch up on. In quiet moments, the balloon just wants to be, you know? Read a book. Drink a cup of lemon ginger tea, suck on a spoonful of Nutella and stare out the window, even if the view is just of the carport and trashcans. The last thing the balloon wants is to feel like there is one more thing she has to do, even if it's for herself.

So the balloon accepts that, for now, she will be a bit stretched out and pouchy. And the balloon sighs quietly and has another spoonful of Nutella.

Firsts.

Yesterday Ruby did the following things for the first time:

1) Sat up by herself for more than a minute.
2) Slept in her own crib ALL NIGHT (Wade and I were upset to not sleep with her anymore; Ruby was not).
3) Held her bottle for a few seconds.

Things are happening so fast these days!