This weekend B was in Chicago having a boys weekend, so the little lady and I were holding down the fort alone. As if to reaffirm the fact that I was a (temporary) single parent and that I should obviously not eat red meat while breastfeeding (though that burger was damn good), she rewarded me on Friday night by waking up every hour screaming. We never even made it off the couch.
But in a move that I will never understand and that continues to repeat itself, a night of no sleep, or cat naps at best, led to a very bright-eyed Saturday, whereas the nights of full sleep lead me to only a moderate level of energy. Cest la vie.
So we took our burst of Saturday energy and made french toast, bacon, and coffee for breakfast and then headed out to the local art & history museum. Baby's first museum visit! It wasn't my type of art work, but being an art lover in general, I could still appreciate the paintings. Plus, the portraits were a fascinating study in fashion, so that's always interesting.
The fact that it was her first museum visit was not lost on me, as she continues to have all kinds of "firsts" all the time. It's one of the mind blowing things about being a parent. One of my most vivid (positive) memories in the delivery room was her first kiss. As I was waiting and waiting to hold her - which took a full 45 minutes after delivery thanks to a misplaced needle - all I could think of was that *I* was the one who got to give her her first kiss. Thousands and thousands of kisses would follow - cheek kisses, belly kisses, passionate kisses, kisses from grandparents and girlfriends. From men who are wrong for her, and men who are right for her. Polite kisses, obligatory kisses, the list goes on. But there has to be a first one, and I got to delivery it. It was so symbolic and touching.
She had her first laugh the other day also. She gave it to her daddy while he was singing her the "I've got pee-pees in my pants" song that he invented. Her second laugh she gave to me the next day, also while singing the very same song on the very same changing table. Apparently it's a big hit. But again, all I could think about was the millions of laughs that we'll share together over the years. The unabashed toddler giggles, the 13 year old slumber party squeals, the devious cackles that accompany most of college, and the wine-tinged hysterics over long dinners at our dining room table. Laughter is a huge part of our household and our family, and to see the beginning of that was absolutely enchanting.
I don't have any giggles or laughs on video tape yet, mostly because as soon as she sees the video camera she goes into an immediate catatonic state. So hopefully that will subside as she gets used to it, but in the meantime here's some really sketchy parenting advice for those of you for whom Tummy Time will be a part of your vocabulary one day.