Seems pretty harmless, huh? Some might say adorable. Cute. Cuddly. A miracle.

Well, she is. And the picture tells the story of how my little daughter's got me completely wrapped around her tiny, slobbery finger.

But what this "awwww"-inducing piece of photography doesn't show is that she is a terror. Not that she's a bad baby. There's a delightful laziness to her (meaning she's not afraid of a little sleep), and from what I've heard, this kid is pretty low-maintenance by baby-standards...

Keeping in mind that "baby-standards" are absurdly high. I'm exhausted. Previously, exhaustion meant that rest ensued. Refueling and recharging to tackle life's next challenge. But this one needs constant monitoring. Extremely tired? Well, suck it up, because it's time to entertain the li'l critter so mom can get some rest (who's been with her all day).

Factor in a full, soul-shattering day at the office, a bruising Atlanta commute, and the last thing that is on one's mind is sitting down between the hours of 11 PM and 2 AM and putting together blog posts, interacting on Twitter, reading the efforts of other bloggers, and promoting one's self and said bloggers on Facebook.

More likely, it's "catch some damn sleep- or sleep equivalent- while you can, because Life isn't gonna slow down tomorrow for you to nap."

Not surprisingly, drinking wine- which so happens to be a bit critical in formulating good content on a wine blog- is not what it used to be either. Ever thought, "I'm gonna knock back a few bottles, then go juggle a nuclear device in my hands"? Granted, binge-drinking is not so much an issue (the party days have slowed down), but being able to relax with a glass and really immerse in the experience is somewhat hamstrung by a squeak, a belch, a fart, or one of the hundreds of other [admittedly, awesome] bodily functions coming out of a baby. Wine becomes less of an experience, and more of a reward for doing battle with the most unlikely of adversaries.

Fortunately, those who are grizzled veterans of that battle generously come to aide at times. Understanding the demands on schedule, an occasional meal shows up in the hands of compassionate neighbors, family, and friends. The extremely compassionate (and handsome and food-savvy, I might add) supply wine as well. Most recently, some terrific neighbors delivered the ultimate comfort: a pan of homemade baked ziti and a bottle of Chianti. From what I gather (being neither Italian, nor having traveled there), the meal to the Italian is the apex expression of love. Simple, honest, and made with care. I can't think of anything more appropriate than a plate of pasta and the rustic goodness of the sangiovese grape to complement the meal. In fact, wine on the Italian table is as essential as salt, plates, or even the food itself (or, as one Italian winemaker once told me, "wine is a condiment"). And when the last thing on one's mind is preparing a meal and cleaning up after it, such a gesture- a hot meal with an appropriate "condiment"- is such a boost for the weary parent.

With that in mind, as we try to figure out our dramatic change in Life, it's tremendously humbling to know we're in others' thoughts. Here's to great friends, a beautiful family, a full belly, and an empty glass...

...hmm, better fill up that glass. The kid is starting to get cranky.