Meet Mia Emmeline

Welcome to Baby Mia's new blog space. True, she is too young use the computer for much, and her little fingers are not yet nimble enough to handle the keyboard, but this is her new blog--I am just updating it for her until she is ready to take over.

She won't likely address current news topics, like Iraq or the poor missing girl in Aruba; nah, this site will probably be just a "lookee-at-what-Mia-is-up-to" site, bo-ring to all but her most die-hard fans. To me, Mia is infinately interesting and amazing. She has done more to change my life (just by existing) than most anyone else. I swear, everyday is better because I know I will get to cuddle her sometime in it.

Mia on the day after she was born: can you say "tiny and bruised"?

If you have ever visited her old babies online webpage, you know her back story. If not, here it is: Mia's baby page.

Since that time, the teensy baby has grown until she is about 30 pounds (that's 13.64 kilos to our European friends). She has been called "juicy" by our next-door neighbors, and "healthy" by random people in public (a veiled way of commenting on her new large size--she's a BABY, you freaks! She is not a member of a gym!). To me, she is beautiful, all the way; it is nothing short of a miracle that she is as happy and healthy and cute as she is today.

Mia just discovered Dairy Queen's Soft-serve ice cream.

Mia sings, plays, somehow manages to scoot all over the floor (she does not crawl or walk yet, due to weakness on the right side of her body. Don't worry; she will get there soon enough!). She smiles at me, kicks her legs, and says "da-dee, da-dee, da-dee" when she is really happy to see me, and she has given me a new reason to do everything, especially to smile.

All the crap that "baby people" say about children--you know, the stuff that makes you want to kick them in the head and tell them that their children are not special--somehow became true for me when Mia arrived. All the corny pop love songs on the radio (that I usually tune away from) suddenly became poems about my daughter. We actually took "Emmeline" from the title of a Ben Folds song of the same name (different spelling) because it fit how I felt while she was inside her mommy (don't let me walk away from Emeline for stupid reasons...).

So, I am that sad schmuck that you pity in the grocery store...the one with the ball cap (though he's too old for it) and the large package of diapers under his arm. He whistles some dumb tune and smiles at the checkout girl and at you--you wonder if her is retarded or something. He certainly doesn't go out to meet exotic friends for drinks and all-night raves, nor does he keep up with the latest indy music. You think that he has sold out, and he has, but he sure did get a good price. :o)

I can't believe this happy little person is mine to love.