2004-04-24, 12:02 p.m.

The first part, out of order (I had some trouble figuring out this whole thing at first...

For at least a week, Christopher has been asking me when I was going to write the email about Leon's birth - I think he misses regularly reading about our lives, second hand... And for a while I've been thinking about how to put the experience together in a coherent and not novel-length account, but up until now have not had the brain power to actually sit down and attempt the feat. Frankly, my brain has been fairly mushy for the past 5 weeks. Sure, I can have coherent conversations, but actually thinking in narrative form has seemed like a lost art, saved for people who get more than 4 hours of sleep a night, and who are not constantly concerned with the state of their nipples...

But I do need to get all this in writing, before I forget any of it. In part, to further my crusade to put this kind of information out there into the public sphere - "this is how it can happen, what it feels like" - and reduce the mystery. I also need to sort through my own brain and put the experience together for myself. And there are so many interesting things happening in the aftermath of Leon's birth that I want to write about, but I feel I can't do that until I've recounted his actual arrival.

So I started writing the email, and I discovered that it was way huger than anything else I�ve ever inflicted on all of you, my friends and family. And in the interests of keeping you all my friends (family�s stuck, hah), I realized it was time to stop overflowing your email boxes, and start my own web-log. Also known as a blog. So here it is, my first entry. Actual details of the birth to follow, as soon as I get them finished.

But in the meantime, let it be stated for the official record that I absolutely love being the mother of the most astonishing, cute, handsome, charming, squinky faced child on the planet. If you've been subjected to any of the many photos I've taken of Leon so far, you know that I'm snap-happily obsessed with documenting and sharing the charmingness that is our son. I love nursing him, I love changing his diapers (look, he pooped!), I love his nose and his little ears, I love his fuzzy hair, especially right after a bath. I love his sneeze - often a yell followed by the sneeze - he gets the loud sneeze from me. I love the way he looks when he's asleep, the noises he makes as he's waking up, the way he pulls his knees up to his chest when he sleeps. I love the fact that he's learning to focus his eyes, that he looks at me when I walk by, but that often as not he's totally fascinated by shadows and shapes I don't even notice. I love the fact that I have no idea what color his eyes will end up - right now they're still blue, but a dark blue, so who knows. I love that he is completely comfortable with the dog, who has a head that is almost bigger than Leon�s whole body, and the cat who likes to sleep right next to him. I can't wait until he's crawling, and can chase both of them. I love the fact that whenever we come back from an outing, Buster has to lick Leon to make sure he's still okay. I love the way Leon responds to Christopher, who can almost always soothe away fussiness, and I love the way he sits on Christopher's lap while we eat breakfast. I love the way he�s starting to really smile when we hang out together, and to laugh. In a nutshell, I love this kid. I am a total goof.

I am also still in complete shock about actually being a parent. I regularly look at Christopher and think, how the heck did this happen?? (Okay, yes, I know how it happened...) But I think that the biological imperative behind falling in love with one's offspring is to keep me from running away screaming everytime I realize that I'm a parent for THE REST OF MY LIFE. Dear god. But it's okay, 'cause I'm just so darn in love.