I just received an email forward. I’m not into forwards in general. You can send them to me if you deem them important. If someone I love sends me something that they think is important, I will read it. However, I am extremely unlikely to send it on to another. I choose not to support the habit. As a general rule, they clutter up otherwise useful inboxes with uninvited attachments, badly formatted text, and a plethora of exclamation points, none of which I personally choose to endorse.

This forward, however, I feel demands a comment.

Everyone please meet my niece, Lily Martine Albin, born December 29th at 7 lbs 5 oz.

I see so much of my sister in her. Isn’t she beautiful?

I forgot how tiny they are in the beginning.

Welcome, little Lily.

We ran the gauntlet of holiday parties this past weekend, starting with the office Christmas party on Friday night. I’ve been doing some GIS work for my husband’s office of late, so I could attend this one on a more comfortable footing than usual. Generally, I just smile when Shawn says, “Oh, and have you met my wife?” all the while trying like mad to remember the names of people that I only meet once a year at this party. This year, we camped out at a small table with the other geeks on the Mapping Programming Team, swapping ignorant user tales and sipping good wine.

I bought a new vacuum cleaner and it’s inspired a general cleaning burst in me. I’m going after nooks and crannies that I’ve trained myself to simply not look at. I vacuumed that two-inch crevice between the fridge and the dishwasher. I took all those empty shampoo bottles off the shelf in the shower and out to the recycle bin (that was 9 empty bottles - break into song if it pleases you). I even got out the webster and attacked the spider webs all over the house. (Megs, my house is now safe for you to visit.)

Luke fell asleep in my arms with his head on my shoulder. I laid him down, slowly pivoting him away from my body to lay him down in his crib. When he reached the mattress, he started briefly, flailing him arms though not quite opening his eyes. He soon settled out into a good sleep.

It reminded me of those dreams where you are falling. I wonder if that dream we all have isn’t just a derelict memory of the benign abandonment of being laid down by our mothers to sleep alone.