A Banner Day

I woke up yesterday morning at 6AM, and realized that the last time I had fed or cuddled Margot was around 7:15 the night before. What was this strange, uninterrupted period of rest? That, my friends, is called sleeping through the night. People have been asking me pretty much since she was born whether or not Margot "slept through the night," and every time I have been like what? What on earth does that even mean??

I have had zero expectation that she would sleep nonstop, all night anytime in the near future. And for me, this has been a good strategy. Playing the expectations game in regards to our sleep has totally worked for me. I'm tired a lot, but for whatever reason, I've mostly been OK with this. But now? Now I know! Sleeping through the night is superawesome. More please.

And that was the exciting news from yesterday... Until a couple of hours later when Margot rolled off the bed, and onto the wood floor. I'll start this story with the ending, which is that Margot appears to be completely fine. When it happened, I was just steps away, dithering for a moment over which shirt to wear to work that day. Then: thud. It was the worst sound I've ever heard in my life. (And I keep hearing it, over and over again. Thanks, brain.) Much panic, doctor-calling and hand-wringing ensued. It turns out that the opinions on baby-falls range from "whatevs" to "CATSCAN STAT!" We landed somewhere in middle, and pretty much throughout, Margot was her regularly cheerful, super-mobile self. 

It wasn't until I was falling asleep last night, replaying the scene in my head yet again, that it dawned on me that she hadn't even cried all that hard when she fell, or even for that long. Maybe it wasn't that huge of a deal to her at all. That is, of course, until Mommy started splashing water in her face to keep her from falling asleep. That was probably pretty freaky.

Like she's got someplace to be

Margot seems on the verge of crawling. Seriously? Is this even possible? I'm not sure. But she's up on her knees all the time, launching herself forward. Even in her sleep, she is practicing this. I know that babies use their sleep to process what they are learning during the day, but it is nuts to watch this in action. She will be totally out, but still involved in this big physical challenge, still a little frustrated that she's not quite there yet. 

Also, Adam has taught her how to hold a bottle. Also, she's teething. All of this is just the stuff that babies go through and learn, I know. I know that the first year is crazy with all the changes. And if I had a dollar for every time someone has told me It all goes by so fast, well, then I'd be a lot less worried about how much it is going to cost to baby proof the giant death trap that we call home. But seriously, y'all, this is happening awfully fast. 

In Bubbe's arms at Brocato's.

The Rental

So the grand experiment has begun. We are now knee-deep in turning our rental apartment into a grandparent's paradise/occasional vacation rental. My folks came down this weekend and we made the trip to Target for those baseline household objects like trash cans, shower curtain rings, curtain rods, etc. Plus, they brought down a few pieces of furniture from Nashville that belonged to my grandmother. My mom is very excited that Margot will grow up around some of her namesake's favorite things. To say the apartment is starting to take shape would be overstating things a bit, but this whole venture is starting to look and feel real, and we're all pretty excited. 

Li'l Stander

Me at work, Margot in Daycare

I had a lot of trouble thinking about this change in our lives in advance of its arrival. It just didn't seem possible that my maternity leave would end, or that I would drop off this baby girl anywhere. When I did imagine such a thing, I saw myself having a complete breakdown at the daycare center. Adam would have to drag me out, screaming and wailing like Sally Field in Not Without My Daughter. 

But it wasn't exactly like that. When we got there on Monday, I cried while Adam fussed over her bottles, which we'd prepared all wrong. We talked to her teachers and tried to pass on all the data we've gathered about Margot's likes and dislikes. We learned that we should have brought a blanket and bibs. Also, we forgot her swaddler. And then it was just time to go. Margot was in good spirits, just like she always seems to be in a room full of babies. So I kissed and hugged her, and hoped she understood we were leaving for a while, and that we'd be coming back. And then I drove to work. 

I get asked a lot if I love being a mom, and I never know what to say. I mean, of course I do. Every cliche about how how much you love your kid is completely true. Every time Margot smiles at me, she adds three years to my life. But this job comes with an unwieldy load of self-doubt and terror. I knew that would come, but I really had no idea how hefty it would be. A lot of the time I feel so loosely tethered to the parenting philosophies Adam and I worked out when I was pregnant that life is a lot like one giant free fall. 

In that respect, work is appealingly simple. There are tasks, and my job is complete them. Talking to grown ups is also pretty awesome. But then something is always missing, like from the center of my chest. I keep feeling like I've left her behind somewhere -- at the bank, or gas station, chilling in her car seat like Nathan, Jr. in Raising Arizona. Hopefully she's having as much fun as he did.