My husband loved, loved, loved having extra women and babies in this house. Last night he donned pj’s and t-shirt and was positive he could settle baby India back to sleep. She is a tough nut to crack when she doesn’t want to give over, though. I watched as he bobbed and rocked, sang in a singsong sweet whisper, gently swayed and soothed, then finally said, “I will punch you right in the face!” and pulled the baby’s head back to his shoulder before turning to face a blank corner of the room in hopes to bore her to Dreamland.
For me, by the end of our two bouts of back-to-back company (seven of the last nine days), I am ready to have the house to myself again. Young babies are stressful; not because they are fussy or hard to take care of but because their Mamas suffer through sleeplessness and irritation and backache (yes, I’m talking about you, Jodi and Kelly!) and they simply won’t let you help them much. It seems to be a universal law.
Todays joys: fabric shoping, my crack-like addiction of sewing; date night; mopping floors (yay!).