I’m learning to learn the art of having no plans or great expectations when it comes to daily life with an infant. This is probably a lesson that I will continue to understand into toddler hood and beyond.

What I mean, for example: yesterday Everett and I had such an easy day and  I was gloriously happy. I think I was the mom I’m “ideally supposed to be.” You know, singing, laughing, getting all my cleaning done and staying ahead on laundry. I even looked good for once (it amazes me what some bare minerals and mascara can do for my face these days). And I would think every so often, “Ok I can definitely do this…why did I think this was so hard again? Man I’m so lucky I get to stay at home with a baby. I want more and more babies.”

And then I have a morning like this morning, when he gets up two hours before “normal” and screams and squirms and grunts, even in my arms attempting to soothe him back to sleep. When that pathetically  failed, I was becoming hot fire frustrated, so he went back into his rocker and I set the timer for 10 minutes–the cry it out method thay I do when the threat is real for Everett to be tossed outside. It only happens every so often when my attempts at calming him fail. And obviously I knew he wasn’t screaming of hunger.

Screaming failed as well, so I regrouped-changed his clean diaper, his sweaty onesie and headed downstairs for some coffee. Five minutes later he was fussing again and I knew he was just tired and needed put to bed.

So I started the lulling to sleep routine: reswaddle, lights out, soundsound machine on, rock rock sway.  He fought sleep and fought it some more and the whole time I was so frustrsted beyond words. I’d say, “Everett!” in a strong hard voice, like he would know that that meant to hush and close his eyes. In that moment the thought of doing this several more times with more babies made my stomach turn. I don’t know how you and dad managed raising four. And in that moment I looked like a disheveled zombie, not singing or laughing. I thought, “I cannot do this, I wish I could get ready for a job and leave for the day. Who would want to stay at home?”

He eventually knocked out. And my coffee went cold. And I’m awake, my day having started way earlier than I intended. But in this solemn baby sleeping moment, while I’m sitting on the bathroom toilet typing this to you, I am so beyond satisfied that I don’t have to leave the house today. That my hair can stay messy and my pajamas not change from yesterday’s pair. I have no boss to take orders from and if I want to go to Target today for a big adventure, I have the freedom to do so.

I just have to remember that the plans will change. Not every morning will be the same–not every day or night will be the same. Everett calls the shots, and this momma follows, forming and molding her old routines around him.

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