Sevens

Dear Hazel,
Yesterday, Mommy went for a nice (read: awful) 7-mile run.

And then seven hours later, you woke up at 2 a.m. because you were hungry since you had fallen asleep before taking a full meal the night before, and had to be fed.

Which was fine. Really.

Until it came time for Mommy to rock you back down. Which included bouncing you up and down while swaying from side to side. And here's the problem: Mommy's knees after a 7-mile run are about as useful as a Mormon Muffin with no honey butter. (Oh, you'll learn all about those muffins, sweetie... in due time.)

Seriously, baby girl... what's up with the 2 a.m. wake up? Mommy's knees need at least 24 hours of recovery before attempting a rock down after a 7-mile run! Don't you know this by now???

So, after trying fruitlessly to get my knees to work so I could lull you back to sleep, I threw in the towel, put you back in your crib and turned on your mobile. Which drew from you screeches of excitement enough to wake the dead. At 3 a.m. Brilliant move by Mommy. Genius.

About 30 minutes later... after several elbows to the ribs... your Daddy finally got the hint and went in to rock you back to sleep.

And yep... that worked. Until 5:30 a.m., when you woke up because you had a poopy, leaky diaper (and jammies and crib sheet). Which was fun. So, I nursed you again, hoping that once you were dry, you would be so tired that it wouldn't take much.

YOU HAD DIFFERENT PLANS, THOUGH.

So, after 30 minutes of cajoling you to go back to sleep, I again put you in the crib and turned on the mobile. And... SILENCE!!! I thought I had finally done it! That you had stopped resisting the call to sleep. It was beautiful.

And then 30 minutes later, you were up again. Jabbering on about how this one time, Daddy made a funny face at you and this other time, Mommy rolled her ankle stepping off the porch. And yada, yada, yada... Long story short, you had a lot to say. For future reference, anything other than a snore at 5:30 a.m. is a lot to say.

So, I broke a rule that we have about not letting you lay in bed with us, lest we roll over you on accident, and brought you to bed with me. Daddy was already at the gym, so we had the bed to ourselves.

Here's the thing, Birdie...I don't know what I expected. But I did not expect for you to snuggle up to me, cheek-to-cheek... and fall asleep.

For an hour.

OF BLISS.

I firmly believe that had your Grandpa Nadolski not called at 7:38 you would have slept until 8ish. Which would have been heavenly for me.

But, the phone rang.

And rang.

And rang. And since I couldn't move with your head on my arm, I had to just lay there and count the rings and pray to whoever was listening that you would sleep through the six rings before it goes to voicemail.

You made it to 5.

And my heart broke when your eyes opened up.

And then it melted when you smiled... just happy to be there. In the moment. Awake. And alive.

And... yes, a little wet. Seriously Hazel... there might be such a thing as too regular.

So, we played in bed for a bit and then I got you dressed for school. Today was picture day so I put on your new outfit that you would be photographed in. I figured you'd had your poopy for the day so I wouldn't need to worry about that. I put you in a bib just in case you had any spit up in you and sat you on the floor in the High Altitude Training Center while I got ready for work.

Things were running like clockwork, Hazey. I had the car loaded up with everything I needed for the day. Your outfit was adorable. I even put a matching bow in your hair because... hey, why not bring out all the stops on picture day?

I put you in the car seat and then thought... maybe I should just change your diaper before we go. And that's when I discovered that the earlier poopy at 5:30? APPARENTLY DIDN'T TAKE. And you had leaked poop all over you brand new outfit.

The outfit that I had put a bow in your hair to match.

The bow that was adorable.

The bow that was the only color that would have matched any outfit that we currently own.

THAT BOW.

Oh no, no, no, no, no! This will not do!!! Oh, we're wearing this outfit for picture day. COME HELL, HIGH WATER, OR POOP LEAKAGE. WE ARE WEARING THAT OUTFIT.

The pants and suit came off and while you enjoyed some diaper time in the HATC, Mommy scrubbed that outfit with soap and water, and dried it with a blow dryer. Yep. All because of that stupid bow.

Thirty minutes later, Mommy had to hit the coffee shop for her legalized speed and then we were off to school.

I don't know how the pics are going to turn out, Birdie. But I do know that you dazzled everyone with your smile and demeanor. Just like you did with me at 2 a.m., 5:30 a.m., 7:30 a.m. and 8:45 a.m. (that's the time when you blew out the brand new outfit. and you know what? you did it with a smile on your face then, too. that's class, hazey. that's. class.)

Love,
Mama