We have re-named our little family group from "The Khunchamnan's" to "That Tired Family." We push the stroller around the city in a slow saunter, blissfully numb. It's a happy-kind-a-tired, and we are not complaining.
When Amnat is really pooped, his hair gets bushy and wild. I fade out around the edges. And, when Jimmy is absolutely threadbare, he mashes his fists into his nose. Believe me, I would do the same; but it would smear the thin film of lipstick which keeps me from fading away completely.
For a woman who has taken pride in being pretty put-together, this numb-happy-tired thing is a real trip. I've never been so loopy, and I could frankly care less. It's enough to wash out a little baby laundry, kill a few dozen mosquitoes, and find that precious latte each day.
Sorry, I do go on about the coffee. My pal Jennifer-Phoenix-Aroha said I could kiss the coffee shops good-bye. She gave up on it after her Rufus was born. I think I took this as a challenge. Jimmy regularly naps in his little pram in various nearby coffee joints, with the espresso machine happily hissing along in the background - that and the ghastly-sweet Thai pop music. What I wouldn't give for some jazz, blues.... hell, I'd even take the Dixie Chicks, at this point.
Jimmy is a love. Even-tempered and happy. This week he's started a shrieking squeal, which he amuses himself with regularly. It's terribly expressive, but of what we are unsure. The massage students definitely get a kick out of it.
His hands remain a major source of amusement. He wrings them as if he were working away on solving some big problem. Then he shoves them into his mouth and slobbers all over. We find it completely charming, if very wet.
Sometimes, however, the photos sessions go on just a bit too long.
Until the next peaceful interval...
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