Sundays...

One of my favorite times of the night is when Beau and I change Cruz’s diaper together. I know it won’t always be a two person job, but I think deep down we tend to congregate around the changing table as a sort of family bonding time. At first, Cruz hated anything having to do with his changing table; this meant he was minutes away from having his pants off, his privates exposed, and well, as I said, my son is modest. But lately, our little CB falls into a magical little trance when he’s on his changing table. He lazily lounges on his chamois changing cover and Beau and I talk about him…

Sometimes we get emotional, hug and stare in amazement at the little person we created. We marvel at our astounding parenting skills, the fact that we’ve managed to keep him content, safe, and fed for the last two weeks. Sometimes we laugh hysterically at him and the many faces he makes…his half-asleep face, his Grandpa Ray scowl, his sleepy smile, and his 'Professor Watson' scholar face. We make fun of his smelly umbilical cord, put him face to face with the many stuffed animals that adorn his room, and sing the, “He’s a Maniac” song as he kicks his little chicken legs and moves his arms up above his head. Other times, we talk about who he will become and what we hope for his life. He’s only two weeks old and we’ve already begun to see snapshots of a personality unfolding…

This week, Cruz is two weeks old. Although a part of me feels like we just brought him home yesterday, a bigger part of me can’t stand the thought of him getting older and bigger. I stare at him sometimes, weave my finger in his tiny little hand, or push my cheek up to his, and get a deep lump in my throat thinking about how fast time goes. I know life is only going to get better and better with him, but a part of me wants to get all Holden Caulfield in Catcher in the Rye, stick Cruz in a glass case and protect him from the world around him. My momma bear instinct is much stronger than I imagined…

Sundays have taken on a whole new meaning since being home with Cruz. During the school year, I often loathe Sunday nights, nights full of grading, lesson planning, and kissing the short weekend goodbye. Tonight, I put on my favorite pair of pre-pregnancy sweatpants, a thick pair of socks, and curled up with my baby on the couch. Dressed in nothing but a diaper and blue and white striped onesie, he laid on my chest, arms up by his face, cheek pressed close up to mine, butt elevated in the air. Two weeks ago, we watched Boardwalk Empire with a baby in my belly; tonight, I have one sleeping on my chest. I told Beau that the only thing that could make this night better was a carpet picnic and a roaring fire. Pretty soon, it will be twinkling lights on a Christmas tree, a pile of blankets on the living room floor, and a baby sleeping in between a pair of proud parents. As the days get shorter and the wind grows colder, I begin to anticipate cozy nights at home with two of my favorite men.

This week, as the visitors begin to wind down, I look forward to relishing in all that is maternity leave. Today we are off to a good start. A morning nap, a cute sleeper, and some successful tummy time. Beau came home for lunch and put his little hot box to sleep. We are spoiled with a baby who loves to snuggle. The more blankets, the softer and sounder he sleeps. Right now, he’s on my chest, snoring like his dad. A snore that hums a ‘life is good,’ tune with every breath.

Life is good.