Isn't she just breaking your heart, right this very minute?It's just happened, really for the first time: I am missing Miss Baby, with my whole heart and body. Pynchon has really stepped up this weekend, giving me time away from the house to do copyediting and general tidying of a publication project that is drop-dead-due tomorrow. So I'm on my second trip to Starbucks of the day (switched from pep-me-up lattes to cool-me-out peppermint tea, natch) and ...
... my whole self hurts for missing my baby. My Miss Baby. All 15+ pounds of no-poop-yet, nap-striking, nipple-chomping, boobie-yanking, drool-mad beautiful happy smart adorable heartrending gorgeousness of her.
I'm at once pleasantly surprised and in pain: I've been attached to her so long and so completely and sometimes so frustratingly, and I've so been cherishing any little hours or half-hours I get to myself, that I figured I was just heartless and irredeemably selfish. But now I miss her and I feel like I could actually burst into tears.
Huh. That's new.
