I just love moments like the one we just had. Sam had finished nursing recently, and I was holding her in the crook of my arm, her tiny body across my chest and belly. She looked up at me and exercised various facial muscles, including sticking her tongue out. A brief fuss storm washed over her, at the end of which, she had the good sense to close her eyes. She quickly fell asleep in my arms.
Of course, it didn’t last long. We didn’t make it very far into dinner before the awakening and the fussing began anew.
When we were in Vermont for Carolyn’s brother’s wedding, we met an interesting fellow, with a multifaceted history. His current occupation was homemaker and stay-at-home dad in NYC. He had all kinds of rants relating to that, varying from inattentive Jamaican nannies, to weekend dads putting Coca Cola in baby bottles. What really stuck with me though was his concept of “6 minutes.” According to this guy, being a parent gives you 6 minutes of bliss per day. Your child will smile at you, coo, whatever and give you moments like the one I mention above for 6 minutes each day. The remaining 23 hours and 54 minutes are, if not a nightmarish hell, at least quite difficult and frustrating. For me, the jury’s still out. I’ve certainly seen both!