Posted by: rocketbride | February 8, 2012

the new nap

As I wrote the date, I thought, February 8th…that sounds like something. Birthday? Aleta Day? Anniversary of something? Five minutes of trolling through the archives to find it: Fireball 1997, the bender that begat That Tuesday, a.k.a. the worst I had ever behaved while drunk. So there’s that.

If there’s any legacy from that monument to stupidity, it may be this: every day I rock my baby to sleep while staring at a quilt from Poet’s wife. It’s a gorgeous alphabet bestiary, sent to us for Blake right before he stopped communicating with me altogether. I’m not sure if she made it or bought it, but it’s wonderful and it hung in Blake’s room right until the minute we made a nursery for Maggie.

(Maggie has her own quilt, a rainbow of fruit patterns from Amèlie. When we pulled it out of the bag at our work shower, I melted. I mean, I’ll knit a blanket for someone I really like, but a quilt? That’s crafty alchemy to my mind.)

Maggie herself, the quiet centre of all of this quilt-talk, is finally sleeping. She was a ragged, howling, snotty mess yesterday, kept from her naps by Baby Time and skating trips. Today we have our Intense! Exercise! Class! which I love, but will skip if that means a calm day. Not just because it makes her nights better, but because I hate hearing that overtired cry all day long. I may be vindicated by the sight of Blake on the ice and I may need the cardio endorphins from a class, but she sure as hell doesn’t need any of that nonsense.

All of this is complicated by some new cognitive developments. When she sleeps through the night, she doesn’t want to sleep in the morning, but is willing to fool me by lying quietly in her crib after I put her down at what was her usual time. If I listen at the door, I can hear her giggling at the ceiling, which is just too adorable to be left alone. Also, she’s grabbing stuff and studying it intently. Yesterday morning it was the appliqués on the front of my old, unearthed nursing pj’s. Today it was the rim of my cereal bowl as I scooped up the last bit. And her swipes at my hair have become purposeful, rather than the random flexings I was used to. (A month ago while in a rage, she grabbed my hair and pulled my head to her mouth as she screamed directly into my ear. It was pretty awesome.)

I’m not sure if she’s learning new things when she grabs them, or if she’s just stunned that she got anything at all. Her expression is ludicrously serious, and a bit drooly.


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