Break On Through To The Other Side

I fed Shaggy Boy last night, all freshly bathed and smelling exactly as a baby should.

His body is growing so fast I can practically hear it as his legs get longer and his neck gets stronger. His wee jammies—blue with red stripes, and a zipper—fit him perfectly. I held him high on my chest, kissing his head and making him smile.

He lights up when he sees me, a giggle suspended on his perfect bottom lip. Every day he feels less like loose-limbed infant and more like sturdy boy-baby.

While he isn’t a champion napper, he sleeps through the night, demanding a couple ounces just before bed to top him off. He wakes early, yes. But he also goes down early, too.

I have reclaimed my evenings.

The Poo is managing with less of my time, but more of my devotion. When we can be together, just us girls, we cuddle and talk about things that matter—daydreams and imaginary friends and the people who love us.

Occasionally, we sneak off for some time alone. Today, the preschool called and bid me come fetch her. The sewer pipe ruptured and so school was cancelled. The Poo’s disappointed tears dried quickly when I suggested a baby-free romp in the park and lunch at her favorite restaurant.

We threw leaves and laughed. It has been too long since I let go and just played with her. I’ll remember her red-brown hair shining in the autumn sun when the days are long and cold this coming winter.

I’m not quite through the tunnel, but the light is getting stronger. The shadows are chased away by dappled sunlight, and our band of four prepares for the future, whatever—and where ever—that may be.