When your dad asks me how my day was at the end of the day, it’s always hard to remember. It’s always been a fine day, but usually the only things that stick out are the unusual “bad” thing (i.e. if you didn’t nap one day) otherwise my answer is just “fine.”
But in actuality, our days are fully of these little amazing moments together. So I’m going to try to capture those a bit more regularly.
Today, it’s gray and snowy
You woke up while your dad was getting ready for work, so we said a groggy good morning, I fed you and brought you in to lay next to me on the bed. We slept a bit more and then woke up and you were your usual smiley, happy morning, self.
We got up and turned on the Christmas lights and Jack Johnson on the record player.
(This is your first ornament by the way, from your Grandma).
We stayed in our pajamas all morning. You played on your mat for a while. I made some tea and toast.
After your second meal, you stayed in my arms and chewed my shirt with a goofy smile while I sang to you. Then you ate a little more, fell asleep so I put you in your swing for a little bit.
I listened to music, drank tea, edited some pictures. When you woke, we skyped with one of my best friends who is all the way over in the UK (you even had an explosive diaper during our chat).
Then came my most humbling hour of the day. Some days, your time of fussiest need, Penny’s highest orneriness, and my time of least patience converge into a messy moment. Today was one of those days. Just a small reminder that I am not perfect.
But now the “storm” is over. Penny is downstairs. We are snuggled into the rocking chair, you are asleep, and we are listening to Handel’s Messiah. Outside it continues to snow.
You Dad will be home in an hour or so, then we have some friends coming for dinner.
And that is our Monday.