Dear Raya,

Can I just tell you that you make the cutest squeaking noises I've ever heard? I've taken to calling you Squeaky McCracken...don't ask me why. In the hospital I called you Squeaky Von Schnauzer because I call your sister Barky Von Schnauzer when she has the croupy cough. I know it sounds strange, but there is a funny PetSmart commercial in which a guy calls for his dog - Barky Von Schnauzer. It cracks me up every time I see it.

Anyhoo, you're sleeping right now - something you do well and often. But I have to remind you of two events in particular, both of which happened today:

1. You projectile pooped all over your father as he changed your diaper. Apparently it was pretty damn nasty and required him to take a shower tout de suite!
2. You spit up an entire bottle of formula....DOWN MY SHIRT. Not on my shirt. DOWN MY SHIRT. It was rather nasty, but really funny at the same time. Don't worry, I'll remind you of this particular incident when you're 15 and want nothing to do with me. And I'll do it in front of all of your friends.

I've decided not to keep a baby book; this seems to be a much better way to chronicle the trials and tribulations of motherhood (and babyhood!)

Oh, and thanks for the one-eyed smiles. They make my day.