The weekend just gone was a good’un. Actually, it’s the best weekend I’ve had in nine and a bit weeks (& maybe even all of my third trimester, if I’m allowed to be completely honest, & I am – because this is my blog). I felt the need for a girl’s weekend, just Frankie & I. I then suggested this to Dave, hoping he’d understand where I was coming from, & not interpreting it as my telling him to basically ‘rack off’. He took it just as I’d intended him to take it, because he’s a good man, & so he packed himself & Max into the car & headed to his parents house in the country.
Actually I lie, I packed, because he’s good – but he’s not that good, ha!
As soon as they’d left, quiet filled the house. Beautiful, thought clearing, mind cleansing, sanity saving, babymoon’ing quiet. I put Frankie in her sling, because my chest is her ‘happy place’. With happy baby in sling & quite literally purring against my chest, I cleaned. I cleaned the house from one end to the other, because the truth is, a clean house is my happy place. And so there we were together, Frankie & I, in our own happy places, y’know … just being happy, really. Her purring, me singing to the birth CD that I made for her labour & ultimately never did get around to actually putting it on.
Isn’t labour just hilarious like that?
After I cleaned, we moved to the bed & honestly didn’t leave it for the rest of the day (& night). Sleep, wake, feed, play, sleep, wake, feed, play, sleep. You get the jist, right? If I was another parenting person looking in on my parenting situation last weekend, I’d be entirely jealous of me. And I’m telling you, it’s exactly what we both needed. I’m even feeling a little bit genius-like for just having had the smarts to recognise that a girl’s weekend was exactly what was required last weekend.
As luck would have it, last weekend was the first night Frankie slept through the night. I don’t know if it was all of the love bombing, or if it was just what was in store for her tenth week of life. All I do know is that when she woke the next morning, I woke literally drenched in a pool of my own breast milk. Ironically, my body had been very obviously trying to tell me that there was an ‘excessive milk situation’ going down, as I’d been having this dream that I was desperately expressing milk & literally filling laundry pails with said expressed milk. In reality though, I was simply dreaming about expressing when in actual fact, I was saturating freshly washed bed sheets.
I woke up initially a little bit disappointed that I didn’t have 10 litres of expressed milk like I’d had in my dream (because we all know that buys all kinds of time to dedicate to things like hair appointments for incredibly neglected hair, & waxing appointments for incredibly neglected eyebrows), but that disappointment quickly shifted to elation from the sheer shock of owning a nine week old who sleeps through the night. If you have nothing better to do than to trawl through the archives of this here blog, you’ll realise Dave & I are not generally used to being blessed with children who like to sleep. In fact, we’d basically come to terms with the fact that we might never actually sleep through the night again, & once you’re at peace with that, well … you’re completely at peace with it.
I’ve been on a high ever since. And it wasn’t just all of the sleep, but it was the love bombing, & the quiet, & the pizza I ordered in for dinner, & the ability to get the house cleaned to a standard I only remember having prior to Max, & a non existent laundry pile, & an incredibly indulgent trashy reality TV sesh’, & the sleeping next to my beautiful little girl & breathing her in, & the way I could quite literally eat her baby-furred little head with its furry, fuzzy hair that reminds me of a peach.
A perfect little peach.
Yes indeed. It turns out that my girl’s weekend was just exactly what any good doctor would have ordered. And I’m going to order it again, & more frequently. Because just quietly, I’m pretty sure Dave didn’t exactly mind escaping to the country either for his boys weekend either, just he & Max.