2. Babies appreciate every minor sensation the world has to offer because it's all new to them. As a writer, this can be invaluable to observe. (Yes, you know what, Elliot? You're right: The way light comes through the window and creates shadows along the wall IS beautiful and worth staring at.)
2a) What once seemed like minor scenarios have become highlights of my life. Like Elliot dancing, teaching himself to roll over, splashing in the bath, and blowing raspberries. Each milestone squeezes my heart. And he'll never be this small again, so each day is acutely poignant.
3. Sometimes a 2-hour commute on the 405 on a Monday morning is a welcome, restful respite from the 96 hours that preceded it.
4. Changing diapers, long feared, ended up being nothing whatsoever and the least of my worries.
5. I always knew Joe was my partner, but now he's really been in the trenches with me. And there's something sexy about a guy who knows how to rock a baby to sleep.
6. With time to read at a premium, only good books make the cut. (Sorry, bestseller that shan't be named. You've sapped my will to live. Although the extraordinarily repetitive nature of your prose does make it easy to drift off, which is sometimes helpful.)
7. My respect for other parents -- particularly my own -- has increased one million fold.
8. Just when I think my friends, loved ones and neighbors couldn't be kinder, someone does something so generous and thoughtful it blows my mind. Example: my cousin sending me a sleep mask and a bright red leather bag so I would feel pampered as a new mom. And the things my parents and in-laws have done for us are too numerous to even grasp or summarize.
