There is nothing I love more than being with my baby.
Smelling her baby-sweet hair, playing with those chubby little hands, feeling her Michelin Man legs wrapped around my waist, making goofy faces just to hear her giggle, watching with pride as she discovers everything around her, knowing that she trusts me wholeheartedly, gazing back at those big, adoring eyes. I am her world. She is mine.
But gosh, sometimes I could use a break.
It is tiring to be the only one that can calm the fears and soothe the tears.
Should I have done things differently when she was really little? Would it have made any difference? Am I now lying in a bed that I made?
Or are all babies like this?
I'm kinda sure that if I wasn't living the life of a hermit she might be a little more open to others, but I'm not 100% sure about that either. Babies need their mamas. That's why we have the boobs.
Not that I have other urgently pressing needs to attend to. Just the occasional shower would be nice; I don't dare to dream about a long soak in the tub. Or maybe being able to go to the bathroom alone. How about a meal that I can eat without everything being grabbed, squooshed, and dropped right into that pouf of cat hair.
The days where beds are made, floors mopped, dishes washed and dinner cooked are as rare as an empty rum shop on a Friday.
But I know that this time is fleeting. Her first year is more than half over. Where did that time go???
Maybe instead of blogging during her nap I should be washing my hair. Then I would have clean hair, but it would be really lonely.