Nurse, poop cleanup, bath time, nurse, swaddle, swing to Bluegrass music on the Pandora - this is our routine tonight. The poop and bath are options, appearing every other night or so, but the rest is becoming somewhat normal for us. We're figuring it out. She's usually asleep by midnight, but because I just wrote that, she'll be up until 1 tonight. She's usually good to sleep for a solid 7 hours, but because I just wrote that, she'll be up every 2 hours tonight. (Please let me be wrong about that.) Once she's asleep in the swing, we'll move her to her bed, turn on the monitor, tiptoe out the door, and breathe a sigh of...something. The feel of the house changes when she's down for the night. It's not relief, though it sort of is. I miss her when she's asleep, but when that door latch softly clicks into place as I leave her room, I feel like I used to when I worked the late shift at the liquor store and I'd finally turn off that neon "OPEN" sign. Like I'm able to take off the Responsible Mom hat I wear, if only for the few minutes between her bedtime and my own.
I've got new stretch marks on my breasts, and this realization hit me kind of hard, mostly because I know it's my fault for not wearing a good supportive bra at night...or on those days I'd rather just wear a nursing tank. I hate every piece of clothing I own. Every. Single. One. I feel frumpy and unattractive and tired and like a hot mess. I need to take better care of myself - shave my legs, take the time to lotion my skin, blow-dry my hair - but who has the time? I could make the time, I guess, but then it seems like so much work...
Jimi is an awesome babydaddy. He packs her diaper bag every morning, while I'm nursing her. He washes bottles, he folds baby laundry, he stuffs pocket diapers, he makes the solution for the flannel wipes. He sings to her and plays songs for her on the ukulele and gets her dressed for bed after bath time. He sprays out every single poopy diaper...that right there should earn him blowjobs for life. Don't tell him I said that. He brings me water and snacks and the Kindle and has only snapped at me once for bossing him around. He's been amazing, and I couldn't have made a better choice for a life partner and co-parent.
I can't believe how lucky I am that this is my reality.
Life is so fucking beautiful.
She's asleep - time for the swing to crib transfer. Wish me luck.