Sad baby, sad husband.

Happier times, this morning.

Currently typing with one hand from the couch, where I am lying on my back.

Sad baby (shots this afternoon) wants only to cuddle / sleep on my chest (i.e. my right boob - the perfect baby sized pillow?). For hours now. Poor Q. Sad husband is finally home after several incredibly long days in Texas, but sick + feverish. Sad.

And me. I'm tired, but I love these two. Just wish I had four hands. Or a clone.

It might be a long night.

But isn't Q handsome?

Oh. He weighs 11 pounds. 22 inches. 35th percentile across the board.

And. A man on the bus today said, Oh is that a little girl? I said No, thinking that the answer would have beeen obvious as Q was wearing a blue beanie, blue pants & a grey fleece. Oh, he said. I always wanted girls. I'm sure you did, too.  

Um, no. just a happy + healthy baby, thank you.

People are so weird.

Especially the insane (mean it) woman who screamed at me & called me a crazy b-word for carrying Q in the Bjorn (?!) while I was innocently walking down the street & talking to friend Kelsey on the phone. What?! It's New York, & I was only slightly fazed, but still.

Random, but did anyone else say h-e-double-hockey-stick growing up? You know, instead of saying that word?

Sad baby is still out.