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No matter how little sleep I get, how sick I am, how crappy I feel when I hear the baby waking in the morning, the sight of her little face lighting up with a big toothless grin when I appear to pick her up never fails to make me feel like a million bucks.

Because I'm a reality TV junkie, I spent the 8-9 pm hour last night flipping between the hilarious auditions on American Idol and The Apprentice. Poor wacky Sam finally got the ax last night, and he looked like he had been shot when The Donald gave him the news. I guess he's rebounded well, though; I just watched him propose to his pretty and normal-seeming girlfriend on the Today Show, and she said yes. I'm sure the giant rock he gave her didn't hurt...

Whew, I keep neglecting this blog, don't I? I caved to peer pressure and have put up a LiveJournal, but there's not too much going on there either.

Dave finished up at his job last Friday, so we're enjoying a few weeks of family time before I go back to work next month. How is it possible that I have less than three weeks of maternity leave left? Yeesh.

Ellie is wonderful. She's wearing her first pair of jeans today, and I am nearly dying of the cuteness of it all. She's had two rough nights in a row, though, and Dave and I are both pretty sleepy. I'm hoping that I can grab a nap this afternoon, since it's likely that she'll be catching up on her sleep as well.

Everything is just really good right now. I love my husband, I love my baby, and I love my life.

My beautiful daughter is three months old today. Where did the time go???

Anyway, Dave and I were gearing up for a bad night of baby waking last night, because Ellie took a very long nap in the afternoon and then fell asleep at 7:30 pm, about an hour earlier than normal.

Shockingly, Ellie slept straight through until 4 am, ate, and then went back to sleep until 7:30. She's in a wonderful mood, and is dressed in fleece to combat this ridiculously cold weather.

I adore my baby!

A Massachusetts fireman who claims that his wife was impregnated without his permission at a clinic that used an embryo fertilized with his sperm has sued the Boston clinic for $3 million for breach of contract and negligence.

Richard Gladu, a former firefighter, was newly sober and hoping to salvage his troubled marriage when he learned of the pregnancy in early 1996. Since then, he's been on psychiatric medications to combat depression, and has retired early from his job as a firefighter. He's now a hotel maintenance man.

He says that he loves his daughter, but rarely sees her and his other children and is struggling to make ends meet. He claims that after in vitro fertilization resulted in his son's conception in 1994, he signed papers indicating that two embryos frozen during that procedure were to be used only if his wife didn't get pregnant. Otherwise, they would be discarded or donated to another couple.

He says that his wife went behind his back in December 1995, after Gladu had refused her request to use one of the embryos to have another child, to have the embryo implanted.

Lawyers for the clinic and doctors say that Gladu gave consent for the embryos to be used, and that they did nothing wrong.

Eleanor is getting to the point now where she is starting to express preferences for toys and activity items. Her two favorite things so far: the toy bar on her Kick and Play Bouncer, and her Christmas present from my parents, the Sparkling Symphony Gym. She received both a Gloworm (which seems to freak her out a little bit thus far) and "My First Purse,", which has got the be the cutest thing ever. The little cell phone in it even rings if you press on it.

Anyway, she's grasping things now, and trying so hard to roll over. I can't believe how big she's getting. It makes me thrilled and sad all at the same time. She's giggling, yammering, and seems to be a wee bit stubborn (gee, wonder where she gets THAT from?), and totally loves getting a bath. She's the light of my life, and she makes me a better person every single day.

I should not be allowed to shop unsupervised.

I ran over to Old Navy yesterday to get some 3-6 month size onesies for my incredibly lengthening daughter, and to try to find some pants for me to wear when I return to work. They were having a "Stock Up Sale," and I got quite a few good buys. However, at the checkout, I succumbed to a clearance impulse buy.

Tell me, seriously, would you be able to resist bear paw slippers for your infant? (They're like these, but I only paid $1.99 for them.)

Christina Applegate has been offered the lead in a remake of Sweet Charity. I like her a lot as an actress, but does she even sing?????

My husband has been working on a huge genealogy project for a few years now (some of the fruits of which can be seen on this website), tracing his Irish family, mostly on the O'Sullivan side, back for many, many generations. The number of people that he has located and been in contact with is simply staggering, and his family tree chart would fill a decent sized living room, what with all of the cousins.

One of the reasons that he undertook this quest was because of a strong suspicion, backed up by circumstantial evidence, that he is distantly related to Michael Collins, the Irish revolutionary. In speaking to a newly-located cousin this morning, Dave was reminded that Michael Collins was born on October 16 -- Eleanor's birthday. How cool is that?

Thanks to the joy that is overstock.com, we are now sleeping on these amazingly soft sheets. I wonder how long it will take before the baby barfs all over them.

It's my 34th birthday today, and it's not off to a great start. Eleanor had an atrocious night, waking up at 1:40 and being a total spaz until after 3:30 am, and then up off and on until 6, after which she managed to sleep until 8:15. Then I came downstairs and knocked a bowl into the sink, breaking both one of my cobalt blue mugs and a glass. I hope things get better as the day goes on.

Purely hypothetical question: If one is making a lemon cake, and frosting said cake, and if one has a small amount of rich milk chocolate frosting left over, is it untoward to eat such frosting with a spoon?

Not that this happened. Or might happen. To anyone. Especially not me.

Tug McGraw, symbol of the Phillies' only World Series victory (at least to me, anyway), has died of brain cancer at 59.

This news makes me extremely sad.

I've seen this movie at least 100 times. I own it on DVD. Does that stop me from watching it again on FX? No, no, it does not.

Happy New Year! I'm sitting at my desk in comfy flannel pajamas, with newly colored hair and my new glasses (mine have black frames), listening to my adorable daughter cooing and shrieking at the toy bar on her bouncy seat. She only woke up about ten minutes ago, which marks the latest she's slept since she's been alive, with only two short wake-ups for food during the night. What a lovely morning.