Well Lucy Baby seems to be feeling better. Or at least she's back to her mischievous sprite self. This morning she got into the dirty laundry and managed to distribute socks, t-shirts and underwear throughout the downstairs. When I came back up after picking up after her, I saw that she'd taken one of Baby Chi Chi's teething rings and shredded it all over the upstairs so it looks like someone puked in plastic technicolor. Awesome.
This just in: washing dishes is dangerous. As I was coming up from getting the detergent out from under the sink I whacked my brow bone on the cast iron pan sitting on the edge of the counter. Sam's first word will most likely be a swear word. Sorry, dad.
I have my first postpartum doctor's appointment tomorrow. I wonder if the chart notes will mention my new black eye under the section about how we are coping with the new changes.