We have been blessed with a happy, sweet, content baby. Ninety-nine percent of the time. (The remaining 1 percent is deducted for regular baby-type crying and wacky scheduling matters that drive Mommy and Daddy crazy.) What a relief.
We’re nearly two months in now and I still marvel at this beautiful boy. Even at times like this one, when I am super exhausted and just spent many, many hours trying to coax myself to sleep while he napped, and then when I was ready to fall asleep, he woke up and decided midnight was a good time to stay awake and whine. I am lucky his daddy is patient and loves him so big, and came in to relieve me just as I was hitting the wall.
Tomorrow things will reset and we’ll have happy play time in the morning while I sip my coffee. I’ll get to hear the coos and see the smiles and listen for the laughs and happy shrieks, which are still so new to him that he surprises himself with each one. I’ll make up stories about the weird, brightly colored stuffed animals he’ll see throughout the day. If I’m lucky I’ll squeeze a nap or two in. It’s an art, this parenting thing. Not a science. We’re painting with big, bold strokes and getting our technique down.