Waltzing with Marian

After almost seven weeks of not taking long naps during the day, you've switched things up on us. Perhaps it's a growth spurt (lord, help us if it is) but yesterday you snoozed through most of the morning and afternoon. Waking just in time for a romp in the park with Peanut and our neighbors.

I'll admit, it was nice to get a few things done around the house yesterday. I could do laundry without trying to balance you on one hip, I sat down and ate a real lunch and spent most of the day working on your birth story. I've decided that no one, not even me, will be interested in reading this birth story at the current level of detail I've provided. It's almost five single spaced pages and I haven't even gotten to the action yet!

I've also decided it's fruitless to try and bring this blog up to speed before I start writing in the present. I'll post a shortened version of your birth story when it's ready; but for now I need to talk about this morning.

You are a morning person, you clearly get that from your dad. Your morning smiles can bring us to our knees--they are big and gummy, spreading across your whole face and it's impossible to see them and not fall head over heels in love. And while a smile will stop me dead in my tracks, I usually feel a lot of pressure to get things done in the morning. There's the pumping, the laundry, the dishes from yesterday and the coffee (very, very important to me these days). So sometimes I put you in your little rainforest bouncing chair while I rush around the place. You played nicely for a while this morning but were soon put-out by the fake jungle noises and the water-feature with no water.

The Birthing 101 soundtrack I'd put together for labor was playing on the ipod (jockeying for auditory prominence with the forest noises). I plucked you from your jungle prison and we started waltzing. The song changed and "Ashokan Farewell" started wafting out. This is the song that your dad and and I waltzed to at our wedding and the song that led me down the aisle. You and I waltzed around the condo, out onto the balcony where a soft rain was falling, and you were happy. I love dancing with you little girl.

And now you're snoozing and I'm sipping coffee. Sometimes the dishes can wait while we waltz.