Baby bird is 17 pounds now. She smiles like a peach and laughs so hard she gasps for air and then cries a little, as if it pains her to laugh so much. She is sassy and stubborn and sleeping so well that I feel I have a new lease on life. I can sword fight one-handed. I can walk on hot coals. No exaggeration, I'm a new woman.

She had her first haircut a few weeks ago, because there was back-woods mullet neck happening. She is fierce and clingy and loves her dad unless she's tired or hurt or hungry and then she wants her mom. I love that I'm her mom.

I recently reread Thirteen Moons, the book that made me fall in love with the name Claire. In it, Will reunites with Claire, his childhood love after being apart from her for years. She is 50 and he says, "How come I'm still in love with you?"

I think I'll be saying that to her when she is old and gray herself. I think I'll be saying that to her my entire life. That may sound strange but it's the truest truth. There's nothing like this love.