Yesterday Ingrid napped for almost three hours, and then she woke up and went the entire afternoon and evening without a single tantrum. I can’t remember the last time that happened. In celebration, I drank half a glass of wine with dinner.*
Right as it was getting light this morning, Iris finished nursing, opened her eyes, looked right up at me, and gave me a real, full-face smile for the first time. We dozed off again and when I woke up it seemed like a great, hazy dream, that smile.
A and Ingrid were up early, and when I came downstairs carrying the baby, Ingrid right away said Want to touch Iris, so I knelt down, and Ingrid stroked her head and cooed, Just look at her blue, blue hair. It keeps getting better and better.
I have no idea what she meant, but it was a perfect thing to say today.
A did a lot of baby holding, and Ingrid helped me scoop oats and sesame seeds and sunflower seeds and mix them up to make granola, and then we baked it and the house smelled sweet and nutty all day. It’s so cool out, I’m wearing socks and long pants for the first time in months. We were at home all morning, which is rare—we get so stir crazy that we try to get out, if only to the playground, almost always. But today it just felt nice to be at home for hours, the four of us, puttering around.
During Ingrid’s nap, I lay on the couch with Iris lying on my chest in a deep sleep. I wanted to sleep, but instead I thought about how sometimes I say to myself, in an off-hand way, We have two daughters, and then I do a big mental double take and say it again: two daughters, and how that feels—heavy, but in a good way, like a tree with more fruit on it than it was quite ready for, bending just a little, holding all that sweetness.
In the afternoon we drove to a barbecue—a thing for A’s work—which was fine, but the best part happened on the way there: We saw a horse, and Ingrid said I wish I have a horse like that at home. Wif red socks. (Here is my equine ignorance: The horse was wearing what looked like ankle braces or maybe leg warmers. Red ones.) I turned to A and said, You realize she just asked us for a horse for the first time, right?
And when we got home? Ingrid’s first why. Why you get that new Baby Bjorn, Mama? And then she asked it, like six times, unsatisfied with each of my carefully constructed answers.
Also, I’ve hesitated to mention this because I know that many of you also have children, and I don’t want anyone to be jealous, but Iris is the prettiest baby in the world. She is so pretty. And don’t even get me started on the cuteness of her belly button.
Going with the theory that Ingrid needs more sleep to keep from turning back into Sullen Whiny Tantrum Girl—and going on faith that this won’t cause her to wake up at 5 a.m.—we put her to bed at 7 tonight, a full hour earlier than usual. We’ll see what tomorrow brings, but, boy, was today quietly, sleepily sweet.
*This is in contrast to the entire bottle of wine that I’ve needed after some of the worse days.**