Here I am, sitting at my desk with a (relatively) tiny human strapped to my chest. He’s finally come to terms with the fact that an ergo carrier is not, in fact, the most horrible place in the world. We have an agreement: as long as I rock gently back and forth, not unlike the tenant of a padded cell, he’ll snooze peacefully with a little smile on his face. He must know I’m talking about him, though he’s oblivious to most everything else, from the sunlight streaming in around him, to the tip-tapping of my keyboard, to the delicious danger of a slice of cheese pizza dangling mere inches above his head, to that dang white noise machine whirring away in the middle of the day. I could get up and flip the switch, it is just a few steps away…nah. With a sleeping baby in tow, most tasks become optional. I’m sure it’ll happen…eventually.
Meet Felix. He’s a virgo.
My resume from the last few months goes something like this:
*Kept afore-mentioned tiny human alive and mostly happy.
*Showered AT LEAST every third day.
*Hosted Thanksgiving, which would not have been possible without Eli (salad-maker extraordinaire), my sister and brother-in-law (turkey-grilling experts), and my parents (baby wranglers).
*Helped keep our local food-delivery service in business.
*Pieced together enough bits of sleep to function pretty much like a normal person. Thanks to Anne we got to sleep in for 2 glorious weeks–a true Christmas vacation! And we cooked up a feast of snacks for Christmas Eve.
*Actually filled in a few pages of his baby book, a seemingly daunting chore that stared me in the face every time I sat down at my desk. (See above: would not walk across hall to turn off white-noise machine.) I am SO impressed that my mom made a baby book for me, a second child. I’ve been typing notes into my phone about things I’ll probably never remember the next day, but eventually want to put to paper. Stuff like:
You startled yourself into consciousness at 4am. We gently rock to The National in the dark while watching your father, a room away, working by the soft glow of a fabric draped lamp. We’re creepy. Shhh, I won’t tell if you won’t. I set you back in bed, your arms flail wildly, and I hope against hope you’ll fall back to sleep. I need a shower. You punch me in the face, inadvertently I hope. Grandma Meislahn. Spaghetti Factory.
And it started so coherently!
*Spent the weeks before Felix arrived in major-nesting-mode. I mean, I brought an actual branch into the house for decoration. I painted a dresser. Made fabric flags. Edited photos and started a bunch of posts for this here blog. I thought, surely I’ll have enough time to post at least once a week! How hard can this baby thing be?
Ahahahahahaha! Yeaaaah. Ummm…
This baby thing. It’s not exactly hard, but it’s not easy either. There are those moments that get filed away: the smiles, the “conversations”, how his laugh gets a little more complete every day. When he holds my hand while partaking in a midnight snack. Seeing him with our family and friends and looking forward to the future. Then there are the moments that turn every muscle and every nerve into a coiled spring that could very well cause one to jump out of their own skin. (Sleep deprivation makes everything feel dramatic.) The inconsolable crying that produces actual tears; the nights he reverts to waking every two hours. That day I cried every time he did.
It’s real life, and, as a whole, it’s wonderful.
Now that we’re settled into our new life, I’m finding myself in the kitchen more often. I’m gonna try to take advantage of this stage–the stage in which Felix accepts his bouncy chair as an acceptable form of seating–and post more regularly over the next few months. When he starts crawling and our life as we know it is over, all bets are off!
Coming up, we’ve got: chickpeas and toast, apricot couscous, sorta-Greek salad, lentil tacos, and yogurt pie.
Nothing to break your resolutions…for now!! muahahahaha!