I suppose I'm letting the proverbial cat out of the bag by writing this entry. It's supposed to be a Mother's Day surprise but I'm tired and having difficulty focusing on work so I'll write instead. Dawn will probably dislike me for writing this. Maybe she'll send me to a hotel to think about what I've done.

The kid's only 37 weeks, not even term, and he's sleeping in my living room. I can hear him through the baby monitor, which is propped up on the dresser behind me. He's been in the little red house under the magnolia tree for about 24 hours. So far so good, I suppose. He's got a doctor's appointment in a few hours. We'll find out for sure how we're he's doing.

It's been so long since Annabella was this size I'd forgotten what happens. Old habits die hard though. The 11:30pm and 5:30am feedings went by very quickly and now I sit here glazed like a donut.

I swear there's a guinea pig sleeping in our room.

But I digress. Red's doing well. Annabella's adjusting - sort of. Dawn's got a headache. And I'm trying to assess when and how I'm going to write my next blog posts:

• How You'll Know When Things Are Different?
• How Many Times a Day Can You Shush Your Daughter Without Feeling Guilty?
• Why Does My Facial Hair Taste Like Cantaloupe?

I have to go work now.