And You Thought Your Life Was Fun
From the outside, life with a baby doesn’t seem that exciting.
Each Monday the water cooler conversation inevitably turns to what we all did this past weekend. Dinner parties. Movies. Bar hopping. But when it’s my turn, people just look and laugh because, for the most part, my life repeats itself: Kristen and I take turns feeding, changing, burping, and, when Henry decides it’s time for a nap, catching our breaths. We don’t really do anything.
And you know what? I’m very much okay with that. In fact, I wouldn’t change a thing.
I love it. I love changing Henry and giving him baths and dancing with him and singing to him. I love going for walks and doing laundry and running around like a madman trying to find a pacifier because he’s just not as happy as he’d like to be.
This past weekend our friend Jodi came for a visit, and she really embraced our new life. When 9:30 rolled around Saturday night and Kristen announced bedtime, Jodi was gung ho. When Henry burped after a big meal, Jodi joined in on our cheer (yes, we cheer; it’s all about positive reinforcement). And when we just didn’t have time to clear the dining room table of the piles of folded laundry, Jodi ate on the floor with us without a complaint (in fact, she said it was like a picnic).
I can’t think of anything (anything realistic, that is) that could make our lives better. Sure, it would be great to win the lottery (note to self: not realistic; another note to self: you don’t even play the lottery). And, yes, I’d love it if a BBQ restaurant opened up in our neighborhood (I don’t have many vices, but comic books and ribs are the big two).
But my life — heck, anyone’s life — is immediately ten times better when they can walk through their door and have a smiling, cooing, limb flailing baby handed to them.
That’s exciting.
October 13th, 2008 at 6:50 pm
Ain’t that the truth!
<I sure loved it too!>