Holding my breath

I have been with my in-laws for three days and I only started to inhale, exhale about an hour ago. Something about allowing anyone who doesn't spend at least 13 hours a day with Baby Girl, oh, I guess that includes everyone whose name is Kendra Stanton Lee, brings out my inner tigress so that I am suddenly ceasing to breathe while ready to pounce and slash anyone who might attempt to pick Baby Girl up THE WRONG WAY. The in-laws have been amazingly loving and tickled pink to be strollering around the little dumpling, but I find it so hard to relax even though I am supposed to relax. I never thought I would be like this, but there is something about the ability to read my child's cues that makes me all defensive and snaggle-toothed. In the meantime, God has grown that little dahlin' right up, let me tell you. It's like she was a little whiny amoeba last week and this week she is folding her napkin on her lap and asking would you please pass the potatoes. And that is when I realize that I can stop and breathe because her grandparents fall under the same spell as I do whenever she...