Easy Like Sunday Morning.

Five a.m.: Adelyn wakes me up crying. She eats. Gobbles it down so fast that she then spits it up all over the both of us. (I'm too tired to care, though. The upside of five a.m. feedings.) So then she's hungry again, on account of losing all her breakfast down her bib. Ten minutes into the second feeding and suddenly she's making that face--you know, that face--and I feel something wet pushed up against my stomach. Her diaper. Oh, and her cute little white onesie is now sort of greenish-tinted from the waist down. Adelyn's still gulping down her milk like pooping your pants is no big deal or something. I go upstairs to change her clothes and mine. But I forgot that lying her down too quickly after she eats almost always results in monstrous spit-up. And, yup. There it is. My poor daughter horizontal on the changing table, naked. Green poop up to her belly button and spit-up decorating the rest.

Oh, lazy Sundays.

Once we got ourselves both cleaned up, though, Adelyn decided to be in the best mood ever. Like, wasn't that so fun?? It's 11 a.m. now and she's still wide-awake, staring at her hands and cooing and smiling.

And I can't tell you how amazing it is to hear a sound come out of her mouth that's not of the "waaaaaah-waaaaaah" variety. Feels like progress.