We told ourselves that nothing had really changed since this time last year.
Yes, we have a baby. We have shopping lists, and nappy bags, a food processor and a high chair. But we’re still cool, right? We can throw caution to the wind. We can stay up until 4am and watch the Superbowl. Not. So Much.
Himself struggled off out the door this morning, and I actually felt sorry for him. He had to get up, get “outside world” ready, and clutch and brake his way towards a long day at work.
I thanked God that I was due a day off. I could spend the day sleeping and recovering from a virtual all-nighter, my first in years. I would get cuddles and kisses if I felt any way fragile, and wouldn’t even have to get dressed. Score.
I’m a mug. I have just crossed the finish line in what has been one of the most difficult days of my adult life. I say ‘finish line’, because the last 12 hours has felt like a marathon, no, an Iron Man. Far from the cosy day off playing games with my boy, today felt like threading water with weights on my ankles, ties around my wrists, and a feather tickling my nose.
I’ve played nurse, cleaner, clown and cook, only it wasn’t a game. It was Séimí’s teething pain, his penchant for knocking over a (full) food bin, his infinite and unerring excitement at peek-a-boo, and the need for a decent comfort food dinner tonight.
If I was smug this morning at the thought of a day off, I didn’t think it through. I’ve always enjoyed watching the Super Bowl, I’ve always struggled the next day, and I’ve never regretted staying awake for an 6 extra hours on a Sunday night. The truth is that things change. Things change A LOT. As bad as my day was, himself came home a broken man. A more broken man than usual, that is.
Yes, we have a new lifestyle, and the best set of priorities. We have an adorable ball of energy who cracks us up with one gummy giggle. But the term ‘Happy Hour’ has a new meaning. If I used to enjoy a tipple during cocktail hour in town, I now look forward to when the wee man goes down, and the night is our own. It happens at 7.45pm every night. It used to be my dinnertime, these days it’s my sofa time, but tonight, it’s just bedtime. Finally.
