One day, two milestones
This morning, my sister and I took Ess to the beach for her first day of sunbathing. Well, without the sunbathing part. She sat in her carseat in the swanky new beach cabana we bought (works great, except that the strap on the formerly-handy carrying case broke immediately) while we sunned. Then she woke, I moved my beach chair into the cabana and nursed her. And changed a verrrry poopy diaper. And nursed her some more. Somewhere in there I managed to read the front section of the most recent New Yorker, keeping up with which is a sure sign that life has not gotten me too down. And then we decided to go, and put her back in her seat, and she screamed bloody murder while we took the cabana down and shook sand out of every blessed thing we brought with us. Got some nice looks from other beachgoers. And then she spit up all over herself -- twice -- in the car on the 0.25-mile ride home.
And, yes, D and I are going again tomorrow. Seriously. If she can do this well at the beach at eight weeks, imagine when she's two... I can't wait until we join the hordes of families building sandcastles and making endless trips to the water. But for now, reading a bit of the New Yorker while she dozes on my lap in her onesie is good enough.
For our most recent trick, D and I went out to dinner. Without the baby. I wore clothes that had not been spit up upon, and we talked of subjects other than how insanely cute she is, and how much she's growing, and how much we love her. I did admit at at one point to feeling like the new-mom cliche -- desperately wanting to get out of the house without her, then fairly quickly wanting to get back to her -- but that's ok. After dinner here, we took a quick walk up the street to peek in the window of another new restaurant, run by the former proprietors of a favorite place of ours, and then headed home.
D's parents had, of course, done a fantastic job with their little charge. Ess had a little bottle of thawed breastmilk while we were gone, then nursed contentedly for quite a while as soon as we walked in the door. Bonus: There is another small bottle in the fridge, which will be good until late morning tomorrow. The plan is for D to get up with her when she wakes up in the 5-6 am window, and bring her downstairs to give her the bottle while I catch another hour or two of sleep. Should the plan come remotely close to working, I will be in heaven.
And, yes, D and I are going again tomorrow. Seriously. If she can do this well at the beach at eight weeks, imagine when she's two... I can't wait until we join the hordes of families building sandcastles and making endless trips to the water. But for now, reading a bit of the New Yorker while she dozes on my lap in her onesie is good enough.
For our most recent trick, D and I went out to dinner. Without the baby. I wore clothes that had not been spit up upon, and we talked of subjects other than how insanely cute she is, and how much she's growing, and how much we love her. I did admit at at one point to feeling like the new-mom cliche -- desperately wanting to get out of the house without her, then fairly quickly wanting to get back to her -- but that's ok. After dinner here, we took a quick walk up the street to peek in the window of another new restaurant, run by the former proprietors of a favorite place of ours, and then headed home.
D's parents had, of course, done a fantastic job with their little charge. Ess had a little bottle of thawed breastmilk while we were gone, then nursed contentedly for quite a while as soon as we walked in the door. Bonus: There is another small bottle in the fridge, which will be good until late morning tomorrow. The plan is for D to get up with her when she wakes up in the 5-6 am window, and bring her downstairs to give her the bottle while I catch another hour or two of sleep. Should the plan come remotely close to working, I will be in heaven.
posted by mc at 8:22 PM
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