My New Niece!

Thanks to my intermittent and altogether unfaithful internet connection this past week, this post is LONG OVERDUE. But hopefully the news will excite you as much as it does me:

MY SISTER'S HAD HER BABY!

Last Monday, January 7th, as a matter of fact. I know because I got a text message buzzing my pocket while I was talking to my boss, thereby making me look like That Girl. Pix messages have been buzzing me ever since, like so many little love hits on valentine's day.

So far--despite not having met her or being able to until June--I'm a big fan. Half of the pictures I've seen show her either screaming or sleeping with her mouth hanging open. Both of these traits indicate we are related. I'm also pleased with her apparent volume, as this means she has the potential to irritate my sister, which is a torch SOMEONE has to pick up in my absence.

Please meet Peyton Lynn. If you're from Oklahoma, you tend to drop your 't's, meaning you'd be calling her 'Pey'in.' And in high school, you'd ask her to go cow tippin'. I shall be calling her PeyPey for obvious reasons, a shortening that actually pleases me quite a bit (thank you, Sissy). If I like you, please feel free to call her PeyPey as well. Her older sister's name is Hunter, which is a subject matter I will not be addressing here in case I someday die and my sister finds my blog and refuses to read my eulogy. On second though, screw my eulogy, I'll be dead. I can't believe they named a little girl Hunter. Okay, got that off my chest. Now we can move on.

If one were to hypothetically visit PeyPey's gift registry, one MIGHT actually find a camouflaged diaper bag. I didn't even know they MADE camo diaper bags. I mean, what's the point? So you can strap on baby during deer hunting season and still hoof it through the brush, confident that her wipes and bottles won't give away your location? What about a camo bjorn? Has anybody thought about how useful that would be? She'll be nigh-invisible!

Okay, now that I've ruined both my eulogy and my chances at getting into heaven, let me go back to gushing over my new niece, who I actually can't wait to meet. I chose the picture below (of the many I am receiving) because you can see my sister texting me in the background. It's like I'm THERE. YESSSSSSSSSS!

I feel the need to put in birth-size stats, because apparently this means something to people (something else I don't understand but hey! Let's play the game. I will give you birth size, you will skim birth size, and then you will forget birth size as the baby no doubt gained three pounds within five minutes of delivery). But I'm all for tradition! Plus I figure maybe this is the sort of information that appeals to Mothers. Maybe they all secretly compare the birthweights of their friends' babies and think, "Mine was WAY healthier than THAT scrawny thing," or maybe, "I can't believe she actually birthed something that big! She must've been hittin' the DRUGS!" But either way, I'm just gonna tell you now--if I ever pop one of these little people out, you're not getting birth size on my announcement. You're getting FRUIT size. "Born at 4:51 a.m., she was the size of an early July watermelon." Now THAT is gonna stick with people.

PeyPey was born at 7 lbs, 5 oz., 19 inches (not her Auntie's birthweight of 9 lbs, 14 oz.), and if she's anything like Hunter, I'm going to love every bit of her. Please do admire my newest little family member:

Blast! My internet keeps timing out and the picture won't upload. I shall post this for now and keep trying the picture in the meantime. (This is also a good way to build up the anticipation.)