Last night, I blew the candles out on this birthday cake:
(It was as good as it looks there, yep. Chocolate Moooooooousse..mmmm)
I'll bet that you can guess what I wished for, can't you?
All of you who are in the know, come on along with me.
Before last night, I didn't believe in wishes, fortunes in cookies, psychics, numerology, the Zoltar Machine, none of it. Truth be told, I've never even made a birthday wish. I've been faking it my whole life. It's not that hard to do, really. Give the eyes a little squeeze, then open--big smile--hopeful, you know, then blow out those candles.
So, this year, with the sleep deprivation knocking out most of my cerebral cortex, I made a wish. [
I wished for someone to invent Baby Ambien.] I can't tell you what I wished for (What's the matter with you, don't you know anything about wishes?!), but I can tell you something in-fucking-credible.
Last night was the first-ever day-evening-night that there was no Level 4, nerve-rattling melt-down. There was just an 'I'm tired and I want to go to sleep cry' (and it wasn't even me doing the crying.) The cry was so different, it was amazing. It was a lilting cry that rose and fell in volume. There were even occasional pauses. Unbelievable. And lovely.
And you want to know something else?
My girl is three months old today.
So, keep your fingers crossed for us. Wish on that first star. Rub your Blarney Stones. Squeeze your rabbit's feet.
I'm down with it aaaall.