Picture perfect

Today started out like a total shitshow.


Because not all of you are parents…no, wait. Let me take that back. Because none of you are as disgusting as perhaps I am in the sharing of your family’s most personal digestive issues, I won’t go into the details of what awaited me and Scott once Abigail woke up. Suffice it to say, I found myself thanking God for making it so someone created the “sanitary” cycle of our washing machine.

And, then, after her morning nap, it happened again.

This is the third time this week this has happened. It doesn’t seem to be as though anything is wrong, and if I’m a betting woman I’d put money down that all of this is a result of a penchant Miss AG has discovered for black beans and oh my God give me some black beans I want some black beans now, thanks.

The first instance today was traumatic, which, hell, it would be for anyone who was covered in poop. Lots of screaming and crying and stomping of feet, and that was just Scott. (Ba-da-bump!) The second, though, was filled with laughter and giggles, as though she, too, found the hilarity in what her pint-sized little body had produced in less than 12 hours.

We then proceeded to spend the morning playing. We read books and snuggled. We ate Cheerios and smoothies and played fetch with Glinny. We watched Bob the Builder and played with Mega blocks. We climbed her little fort (well, she did) and did somersaults (well, she did). We went outside and looked at the flowers and ran through the grass. We played with her water table and practiced our favorite words (well, she did).

Earlier in the day she’d started putting signs together to communicate. We never had any real intention on teaching Abigail sign language, but our nanny started teaching her and, like a lot of kids, she picked up on it and now we’re all pretty excited to have it as a tool. So today when she handed me her empty Cheerios container and then proceeded to sign “eat” and “more” in a row, I thought I would do handstands.

I practically did when minutes later she signed “more” and “water” in the same fashion.

Later we all had lunch together on the porch and she discovered a love of couscous, or at least the fashion in which she can eat it which is to let most of it stick to her hand and then ram her pudgy little fist into her mouth.

She’s down for a nap now. In an hour we’ll go to church with her godparents and their girls.

This is all to say that today has been perfect. It has been more joy-filled and lovely and loving than I deserve. When I think about what life would have been like had we not had Abigail, I know it would have been wonderful. It really would have.

But I am so grateful that she is here, and that this is our reality. Poop and all.