wine. it does a mama good.

Thanks to David's parents, David and I went out Saturday night. On a date. Without the baby.

OMG.

It was our second date since Milo was born, 115 days ago. Not that I'm counting.

I wore a new sweater. It was totally baby spit-up, baby pee, and baby booger-free. I did my hair. And brushed my teeth.

We left Milo at home with Yia Yia and Opa. My heart was beating as we walked out the door. We drove downtown and, holymother, downtown Denver is bumpin' on a Saturday night! Who knew?

We found a parking spot right in front of the restaurant. Unheard of. We walked in to the restaurant David picked out, the name of which I can't even pronounce, it was just that cool. The girl asked if we had a reservation. We said no. She told us it would be an hour and a half for a table. We went to the bar. Fifteen minutes later, she came to get us and took us to a table.

The date night gods were smiling on us, for sure.

I wasn't going to order a drink. I'm not a drinker. I didn't drink a lick of alcohol when I was pregnant with Milo. I've only had sips of David's beer since Milo was born. (Ok, MAYBE one glass of wine when I went out with a friend.) After all, I'm a breastfeeding mama and I have to be responsible.

But on Saturday night, when my stomach was a little anxious about somebody else putting Milo to bed, I decided I would order a glass of wine.

And oh. my. gosh.

I forgot how fun I was.

We laughed. And laughed. And flirted. And held hands at the table. And after dinner, instead of going home, we went across the street and ordered more wine and chocolate fondue.

We didn't talk about the baby. I wasn't thinking about Milo's nap schedule, his feeding schedule, his sleeping schedule, whether or not he's getting enough tummy time, how I can't seem to cut his nails short enough to keep him from scratching himself, or the fact that I can't get rid of the dry, flaky skin on the back of his head.

We didn't talk about any of that.

We talked like friends.

And we remembered how much we really, really liked each other.

And did I mention that I was fun?

Not anxious. Or irritable. Or annoyed. Or nit-picky. Or uptight.

I love, love, love my baby. So does David. We are learning how to be a family of three.

But it sure was wonderful to be two. Even if only for an evening.

(P.S. The headache I had Sunday morning when I woke up was totally worth it.)

yia yia & opa come to visit

We aren't going to KC for Thanksgiving this year so Steve & Patty came to Denver and we celebrated early. Milo really enjoyed spending time with his Yia Yia & Opa and we were grateful for a "date night!"

a moment's peace

It's hard

to get

a moment's peace

when your mom

thinks everything

you do

is adorable

and should

be

caught

on

camera.

milo tells a story

goodbye, swing

Well, it's official.

Milo is too big for his swing.

Goodbye, swing. We loved you. Thanks for helping us through those first crazy months. Thanks for being a safe place to put the baby while Mommy took a shower. Thanks for being there in the middle of the night if we needed you.

We will miss you.

P.S. Where does time go?

grand gestures

Yesterday I was in a bad spot.

Milo missed his morning nap because we were at the grocery store and when I tried to put him down for his afternoon nap, he cried off and on for two hours. He was so exhausted by the time he fell asleep, that he slept until 5 p.m. Sleeping until 5 pushed his bedtime back, which meant he was overtired and fussy and waking up every 45 minutes or so after I put him down. I fed him at 9 and, as he was drifting off to sleep, my dog started scratching himself (a very normal behavior for a dog, mind you). But he kept scratching. And scratching. And scratching. And goodgod does he need to scratch himself RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE BABY's DOOR??? His scratching (and thus collar jingling) sent me into a tail spin.

David took the baby from me and soothed him to sleep. And then he found me crying in bed. I told him I hated my life.

(I don't really hate my life. But exhaustion and hormones and dogs with jingly collars can skew your perspective.)

And that was when my husband intervened in a big way.

Pop culture would have us believe that grand, romantic gestures include flowers and chocolates and diamonds. Grand gestures are public. And grand.

But I don't need flowers and chocolates and diamonds. Here is how I know my husband loves me:

He hugged me. And then he turned off the baby monitor. And he took his pillow off the bed. And he moved to the couch. And he told me to close the door , forget we had a baby, and go to sleep.

And he slept on the couch. My husband slept on the couch so he could hear the baby. And when the baby cried, David fed him. And I slept.

I slept. Uninterrupted. (Ok, minus a quick 2 a.m. feeding that I chose to do in order to sleep comfortably. If you're a breastfeeding mother, you understand.)

And this morning, when I woke up at 7 a.m., I felt like a different person. My brain felt different. The world seemed less blurry. I was even able to be kind to my dog.

And that, my friends, is the story of my husband, his love for me, and the night he made a grand, romantic gesture.

one year ago

November 3, 2009

Dear Baby,

This morning we found out you are coming. I can't believe it! I'm so blessed and happy. You are making us parents.

I love you,

Your mom