Wednesday, March 6, 2013

4am thoughts, posted at 1pm

Thrush still sucks. Today we cut out sugar and carbs to help the process. Not my fave.

It's all over for me, I'm sucked in.
I'm hooked. In deep. Wrapped around a finger. Whatever you want to call it, I'm there. Last night Scarlett was fast asleep in her rocker, right next to my side of the bed. Eric and I were looking at all of our pictures of her that we just uploaded. And I missed my baby. 5 inches away from me, happily snoozing in her rock n' play, I missed my baby. I had serious snuggling envy of an inanimate object because it was holding my baby and not me.

I get to be the Easter bunny this year. Hell to the yes. This is oh so very exciting! You might say I've dabbled in generous mythical/legen( beings before. I've picked up candy at 1am to fill shoes on St. Nick's feast day. I've Santa wrapped with the best. But being the Easter bunny for my own kid? Even though she has no idea what's going on? I'm freakin out, man!! This year I think baby girl is getting some of the cutest headbands you ever did see:

Little Hip Squeaks

(I already have her TOMS picked out that she's getting from Santa this year. Oh to be Santa--I can't even go there yet. Because I will die waiting.)

This kid has been sleeping like a champ for the past three nights. Seriously, we're talking 5-6 hour stretches. I hope it lasts because it's. awesome. and so much nicer than the 3-4 wake ups a night of last week. As long as I go down when she does, we're in great shape. I never thought I'd wake up at 4am and feel so well rested. Welcome to parenthood. This morning she woke up without a peep. I got up to take my meds for my poor chest before feeding and when I came back, those big, beautiful blue eyes were just staring at me, like "oh hey mama, just waiting for you." I melted into a big pile of mush. How much cute can be packed into one tiny person I ask you?!

Amazon--I could write a sonnet about how much I love you. I could. But I don't really feel like it right now, so I'll just say, you're my favorite. Breastfeeding in public and thrush do not mix, so getting all my crap shipped to my front door definitely trumps making an unhappy baby trek all over town with me. Why am I thinking this now? Because I am simultaneously blogging and Amazon cruising for Easter basket goodies and grapefruit seed extract (to further kill the thrush. Damn, that bastard keeps coming up.)

And yeah, that's what my head looks like after a 4am feeding.

No comments:

Post a Comment