Milk drunk is the term I created to describe that look of pure ecstacy on a baby's face when they've fallen asleep satisfied from a good breast (or bottle) feeding. You know the look, eyes closed, slack-mouthed, with a dribble of milk clinging to one corner, a small contented sigh, perhaps even a quick upturned smile of the lips and then a return to post meal slumber. That's milk drunk. I love to see Josiah milk drunk- slurping at the breast one minute, milk drunk the next. Since some of his hair has rubbed away, his widow's peak is even more severe. He looks even more liked some wizened old man, toothless and bald. He's not as scrawny anymore but still small. He's not pretty yet there's something quite beautiful about him. His skin is flawless and fair. I took him yesterday to be photographed. I had a coupon for a free sitting at a fancy private photography studio. He was photographed on a big white furry bean bag with simple white tule wrapped around him. The whole thing had the appearance of 'swaddling clothes' or an angel floating on a cloud. The photos will be so cute and will be Christmas gifts for grandparents. How can I explain how much I love this baby? My life is devoted to his wellbeing. I don't want to be away from him. I can just sit and stare at him for hours. Perhaps I'm baby drunk!
We went to a Christmas party last night for our multi-racial family support group. My kids always love their events. The party was held at my friend Sarah's home, a huge turn of the century mansion in the city. My kids love her house, and so do I. The spaces are so generous the architecture so intricate. No space or structure is to obscure for the finest detail. I remarked to my kids that they still build large homes today, but there's not the same attention to detail. Anyway, I spent most of the party talking to a couple with a new baby. They were adoptive parents to a biracial baby named Iris. I could hardly take my eyes of her, she was so plump and beautiful. She was younger than Josiah but much bigger. I was so greedy to hear their stories about her and to laugh and smile with them as she cooed and yawned. I felt so happy for them to have her. It was clear they were over the moon about her. I thought, every baby should be like Josiah and Iris. Every baby should be so wanted and cherished.