Milestones.

Tomorrow, baby hits the three-week mark. It's been a busy three weeks. We've had a few setbacks - fickle kid hates having a dirty diaper only almost as much as he hates having his diaper changed. It's a conundrum. A really loud, shrieking conundrum. But we've also had some bona fide victories, and it's those I'd like to focus on now. You know, keep things positive and remind the world that I have the cutest damn baby pretty much of all time.

Days 0-21:
I have regrown ankle bones and veins in my feet. I know some of you may contend they were really there all along, but I'm telling you, there's no way. Those sausages were completely void of shape and contour. They were poppably puffy. Now, they look like my usual misshapen feet. (I know - it's a surprise that I'm celebrating the return of my feet. Let's not forget, it's these damn things that got me pregnant in the first place.)

I am no longer wearing Depends. This is probably more a victory for my husband than for me. Those things, while incomprehensibly big and undisputedly horrible, were wonderful. So much cheaper than Victoria's Secret, and never once did they sneak up into a crevice where they didn't belong. Something in my brain - and behind - completely rejected sexy drawers somewhere around month six of pregnancy. Literally, my crack actively rejected them. Kicked them straight out. Depends, on the other hand, were received like a warm, welcome hug from a beloved family member. I will miss them.

I can pull my knees straight up to my chest. I used to love curling up in a little ball. And reaching my calves when I shaved my legs. And tying my shoes. All those things went by the wayside when I had to start froglegging just to put pants on. But I'm back in alignment, and sometimes I just walk around in a half-march, because I can. I can.

I have recently uttered those seven words every A-cupper longs to say: "I think I need a bigger bra." Jay was so overcome with emotion he couldn't respond right away. I almost took advantage of the good mood and asked for another package of Depends. But I'm a really good wife so I just let it be about the boobs. Which leads me to...

...the God-given blessing known as the milk boob. They're so great. That's all I really even need to say about that.

(What? Sorry? Hold on a sec.)

Okay, I have just been informed that when people inquire about "milestones" and a baby, they actually mean the baby's milestones. Um, okay then. Whatever. Let's see how that goes.

This might make me sound like a really bad/selfish mom, but you guys, he's three weeks old. What exactly do you think he's accomplished at this point? Because I hate to disappoint you, but it's pretty much nothing.

His cord thing fell off. Which is great, for me, because that thing was disgusting, but he can hardly chalk it up as an accomplishment. Is that the kind of thing you're looking for?

He managed once to kick himself in the junk and cover his entire foot in his own mustard-seed shit, and twice to spit up in his own eye. Again, is that something he'll be bragging about in later years? Can we all collectively pray that's not on his list of proudest moments someday?

He naps like a narcolept, burps like a beer guzzler, toots so loud he startles the dog. Feel free to guess which of those (two first qualities) he gets from me, and which he gets from his dad.

So, he hasn't done much yet. He just keeps getting cuter and pudgier and more and more the center of my world. I'll take it.