We had a day of major overstim: An hour long drive for a walking tour of your Auntie’s college. A 45 minute wait in line at a hot-spot restaurant (who takes a baby to a restaurant with a wait!?). Another 40 minute wait for our food. An hour-long lunch sitting in the high chair, destroying anything within reaching distance. And all the while, your grammy, grammy’s boyfriend, auntie, and auntie’s boyfriend all screeching your name, making faces, passing you from person to person. The whole day was super Elsa-focused with a four hour stream of baby name-calling, rasberry-blowing, face-kissing, high-pitch-squealing (from them, not you), and table banging (again, just as much from the adults as from you). It was exhausting for your 90-year-old mom and dad who got in the car at the end of the day and breathed enormous sighs of relief that we could now just sit in silence. Glorious silence.
And you were amazing. Better than any almost-seven month old could possible be. You made it through the whole day, taking all the attention in stride. I imagine the day was like a constant fun house of faces passing before you – squealing and calling your name – distorted and wild. New sounds and textures and tastes. A bevy of new, delicious, filthy chew toys: the table, a napkin, your high chair straps. You handled it better than your mom and dad, who require moments of quiet and calm amid such chaos.
When we got in the car to go home, you were asleep in seconds.
Only tonight, did you show the effects of such a crazy day. Cranky and wild, I brought you to our nursing chair for some quiet nursing time- which almost never fails to settle both of our spirits. But tonight, you would have none of it. At first, I tried to nurse you while I played with your dad’s new iTouch, but you kept trying to sit up, throwing your weight around in an effort to destroy any nearby electronics. I put down the distraction and focused on you, watching you thrashing from side to side, hitting me, yelling – a tiny Baptist preacher in my arms.
Unable to help you, the only thing I could do was watch and wait. I let you blow off steam and finally . . . slowly . . . your head started to rest on my chest. At first, only for a few seconds before you flung yourself backwards for another round of lunacy. Finally, you rested your head down on my bare chest and your breathing slowed. Your hands relaxed. I too closed my eyes and marveled at how big you are. How when you lie on my chest, your body stretches the length of my torso and your knees rest on the rocking chair. I thought about the unfathomable future when you will be a toddler and then a child and then a teenager . . . And I will think back to when you really needed me. Needed my body to fall asleep. . . my bare skin. And how that was the nicest time – the nicest memory I have.
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