Miscellaneous

Matthew's celebratory sushi?  Turned into Round Table delivery when his back went out.  (Likewise, my weekend of sharing child care?  Turned into solo parenting - albeit with cheerleading support from Matthew - after the back diagnosis.)  He spent the morning at urgent care, whilst I fielded numerous temper tantrums. 

Yes, the sweet, easy, *good* little baby we brought home from the hospital almost a year ago has begun acting like a pre-toddler.  Oh, she doesn't walk yet and she's almost entirely pre-verbal.  But long, long gone are the days of putting her to bed with nary a peep.  Now it's a screaming fit for a minimum of five minutes, sometimes longer.  She can't stand to be immobile long enough to have her diaper changed, so I frequently chase her around the nursery, trying to fasten the diaper.  And every time something doesn't go as planned?  She shrieks, kicks her legs, and flails her arms.  High drama.  All day long - and minus one of the usual naps.  I was TIRED.

Tonight's mini-thunderstorm was an interesting wrap on the day.  I always feel like thunderstorms belong to Matthew, somehow (he was struck twice by lightning when he was 13), so it was fitting for them to be on his birthday.  And, well, I really enjoy even the lukewarm, watered-down versions we have in the west.  After I finished up Water for Elephants, I went into the Peach's room to check on how she was doing.  She was in bed, eyes wide open, and just acting a bit odd.  I changed her (no chasing required) and gave her a bottle, which she wasn't all that interested in.  Instead, she clung to me, one arm tightly wrapped around me, the other flung over my shoulder.  Her head burrowed in my neck, and no matter what I did, or how I shifted my posture, she would not let go.  [By this time, we had maybe two or three flashes of lightning left - it was the tail end of the storm.]  We rocked in the chair for a long, long time.

My guess is that she was scared by the storm, or else freaked out by being awake in the "middle" of the night.  But for me, it was kind of nice.  It seems selfish to say so - after all, she was scared.   But the act of cradling my child in the midst of the storm, and chasing away her fears by stroking her hair and telling her she's safe - it  was a wonderful cap to a chaotic, messy day.  When I put her back down to sleep, I told her "night, night," and was rewarded with her own "Na."  And no screaming.