New Year's Day sucks. It is the most depressing day of the year for me. I think it's because of the holiday let down. It's rare that I wake up wishing for a day to be over, but that's generally how I feel about January 1st. I am thankful that we have lunch every year at my parent's house because that gives me something to look forward to, but after that I'm just ready to start life over again on the 2nd without all the holiday hustle bustle. This year was no exception, and the nasty rain didn't help at all.
What was good, was New Year's Eve. I woke up in my new bed, on my new mattress with new sheets, in my newly arranged bedroom with two pairs of giant brown eyes looking at me. Neither pair were Dave's eyes. Luke was in bed with me, as he often is in the mornings, and Ella had come in sometime during the night. They were lying side by side, looking at me, waiting for me to wake up. It filled my heart with joy. (Plus, it's nothing short of a miracle to wake up after them without any of the usual racket.)
Then it got better. I first explained to Ella that it was the last day of the year and that the next day would be the first day of the new year. To which she promptly responded, "And I will go to school?" She's so ready to go back and I'd been telling her that after we had Christmas and New Year's Day it would be almost time for school again. She goes back Thursday and I can't wait because I'm hoping that will help with her sleep regression.
Then Luke was hungry. As I was settling into the pillows to nurse him, she insisted that she wanted to nurse him. I helped her up onto the bed, plopped him into her lap and she lifted her shirt as he turned his head to latch on. Then I took him back and told her I though he wanted her to nurse his stuffed bird instead. She was glad to, so both Luke and Hooey were happily fed. And burped.
It does my heart good to see her to so comfortably nurse her babies, stuffed animals and plastic tub toys - and even in a room full of people, as she demonstrated at Nana's house on Christmas Eve. I love that it is such a normal part of her life that she acts it out. I love that when Luke or other babies cry, she suggests nursing as a remedy. I hope she'll remember this when she has babies one day. It's certainly more normal than the "big bobo" she has behind her panties where Baby Kensley was born, which is the reason she can't carry Baby Jane to the car right now. It's going to take a lot more effort to teach her that C-section deliveries are not normal, but we'll get to that in good time.
Luker Man is his usual smiling, happy self. He got his new cup for Christmas and had no trouble drinking a couple of ounces of milk from it on the first try. He's ready to eat food. So ready that Dave recently asked me at the supper table, "We aren't going to have a peaceful meal around here for two months are we?" No, we will not. He squeals and grabs at our plates. He'll get his first solid food when he's six months old in February; until then he can chew a spoon and squeal at us while we eat. Food isn't the only thing he tries to grab; he's after anything in his reach, which makes holding him in one arm while I put on my makeup even trickier these days. He's also figured out how to propel himself forward in the walker at Grandmother's house. He is pratically bursting with the need to jump in the floor and play with Ella and he gets vocally upset when she leaves his sight. I'm very afraid for the day he becomes independently mobile. He is going to rock her world.
No comments:
Post a Comment