It seems like I should document a normal day so that next month, when newborn crazy town arrives, I can look back and laugh or cry at my idyllic, restful, scheduled life.
So. Ev generally wakes up around 8:52, give or take 30 minutes. I plod up the stairs (usually groggily) and then make her the exact same breakfast she’s consumed for almost a year now: banana and oatmeal. She then plays around while I make myself the exact same breakfast I’ve consumed since December: egg, bacon, toast, large glass of cran-raspberry juice. I just bought six jugs of the stuff because it was on sale. Variety may be the spice of life but I guess not at breakfast time.
We putter around together for a bit but usually around 10:22 she’s ready to hit the hay again. Depending on diaper situations, she’ll be upstairs in her crib until 1-2:30. I kept going up to check on her yesterday because of the loud singing and every time I’d peak through the door, she’d be rocking her baby or swinging it up in air. I finally changed her diaper around noon and didn’t see her til 2:40.
While she’s upstairs, I spend the first bit of the time in my bedroom and the kitchen picking up, doing dishes, and these days, a bit of baking or cooking for after baby. Once the kitchen’s clean, I make my way into the living for 20 to 30 minutes of prenatal pilates. You guys. It’s been almost five dedicated weeks of exercise. I’ve missed three days. Basically, I am a rockstar…still with no muscles but at least with better balance. I actually really like it. (I just added the 2 pound weights 10 days ago so that could be why no muscles have appeared).
Then…ahh. My iced coffee with a piece of hard bottomed coffee cake. I seriously go to bed dreaming about my coffee cake and can’t wait for the morning to come so I can partake again.
Ev eventually wakes up. And eats a string cheese, egg, and fruit. Always. Sometimes we split a smoothie in addition.
And then we play. The last couple days have been marvelous and we’ve spent our afternoons outdoors. Yesterday after lunch, I opened the back door for her, raced downstairs to switch over the laundry, then raced back upstairs, made my way to the back door and began peering out in the yard for her, wondering why I didn’t immediately see her.
She hadn’t quite made it that far. Speedy gonzales, she is not.
She has started letting us help her walk a tiny bit more in the yard and stands up more and more by herself. She still thinks she’s pretty cool by performing this trick.
After playing in Gladys’ water dish, shoveling in the fountain, and swinging, we eventually come inside. Sometimes a nap. Sometimes not.
Dinner is generally a family affair where Ev stands on her chair, leans on the table (we’ve never had a high chair) and jabbers about the day while chewing on a piece of bread. Wes and I grin and shake our head at her antics.
More playing, often a bath with mom, bouncing on the bed with dad, standing tricks, snuggles with all and then to bed around 8:52. The biggest change in bedtime routine has happened since returning home from California. I would often hear my friends say how naptime and bedtime were the sweetest of times with their children. I’d cringe and think, ‘not here’. Generally speaking, prior to 2015, we’d chunk Ev in her crib and run out the door before she realized it was now time to sleep. If you attempted any cuddling or snuggling or singing or sweet moments, she’d have none of it and holler to beat the band.
Now, she snuggles in your arms, sucks on her blanket and coos and grins as you sing, pray, whisper sweet nothings. I lay her down, and she grins up at me as I give her her baby to cuddle with. Then I blow her a kiss and she giggles.
And my heart melts all the way downstairs.
I adore these days.