I have to go to the gynecologist this morning. Yep, I was SUPPOSED to go 6 weeks after Her Majesty was born, but I couldn't figure out childcare OR who I could leave her with whose soul she wouldn't attempt to consume. So I go today, and not a moment too soon. I need birthcontrol. Yep. I NEED it. I know there are scads of people who want or have more than one child, and they have my undying amazement and respect. But I'm pretty sure, as in you could pump me full of sodium pentathol and I would STILL say, that Livvie is going to be an only child.
So I showered this morning while Livvie slept, because we all know that you can't go to the doctor all skank. I mean, ew. And yes, Livvie was sleeping, because after not sleeping most of last night she decided a fine time to get all grumpy over being woken up was 7am. So there she lies, sound asleep, while I silently muse poking her repeatedly so she knows how it feels. I actually lie in the dark and contemplate how I will behave when she's a teenager. I know there will be some nights where I'll just throw open her bedroom door, snap on the lights, holler, "Just kidding!" and then leave her to try to get back to sleep. Repeatedly.
She has to go with me this morning, and that should be interesting. Rich will be here prepping the SS Minnow (ok, the McYacht, but she's a beast of a boat) for our first voyage as a family this morning, and I know the doc will love to see her, so that won't be a problem. I am, however, attempting to figure out the logistics of having a mobile infant in a room full of medical equipment. Wish me luck.