I don’t know if you heard but we got a light dusting in these parts. As soon as the blizzard started, Rick and I grabbed the kids and rushed out to buy a jumperoo. Because if you’re going to endanger your family on slick, snow covered streets, make sure it’s for something really vital.
Oh – my girls have been wearing pajamas the entire vacation.
After our Toys R Us adventure, Rick hightailed it to work and spent the next two nights in the city so he’d be able to easily get into the office. That’s two nights in a hotel room (minus four kids and a wife) and he managed to sneak in a viewing of “Black Swan” between shifts. That doesn’t sound so much like work as a glorious vacation.
He claims to have missed us.
Okay, I added the desperately.
While he was gone, Harlowe decided to start rolling over which meant that she began sleeping on her belly. Totally fine except instead of putting her face to the side, she insisted on lying face forward into the mattress. So one night, just before I went to bed at 30 minutes past way too late, I found her in that exact position.
Now I, as her loving mother, can not understand how she can possibly breathe like this. So I ever so slightly adjust her head and then she wakes up. Oh crap. I freeze.
Harlowe lifts her head.
I don’t move.
She stares at me.
I don’t flinch, thinking that maybe Harlowe doesn’t realize she is in her room. Maybe she thinks she is in a wax museum in London and I am the new Kate Middleton wax figure.
She starts to cry. Which means she either has a distaste for soon-to-be British royalty or she recognizes me as her mom.
I give up my impersonation of a wax figure and nurse her to sleep. Ordinarily, she has to get herself back to sleep but I feel guilty about waking her up and that whole “pretending to be Prince William’s fiancee” thing.
As I sit in the dark, watching her nurse and feeling her fuzzy hair, I think to myself, she is so sweet and perfect and wonderful.
Even if she looks a smidge like Conan O’Brien.