With your grandmother back home after helping us for three weeks, your mother and I have gotten back into our little routine, which is to say we are putting on a clinic in efficient housekeeping. You can call us robots in this regard. We haven’t struggled to keep up with using cloth diapers, serving up meals, going on walks with Kili, me going to the gym, or even watching movies at home. (As an aside, your mother has been pining to watch Straight Outta Compton only for us to stop about fifteen minutes into it when she realized she doesn’t have the hip-hop acumen to keep up with it…it’s actually kind of cute.) All that being said, you’ve been very helpful by being a relatively easy baby.
One area we haven’t been able to keep up is physical intimacy. Your mother’s “I never want anything in there again” comment aside, it’s been hard to find the time. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say you’re coming between us only because you literally sleep in a cardboard box wedged between the two of us, which puts an insurmountable gap between your mother and I, and also leaves us each with less than a twin-bed’s worth of mattress space. Yet I find myself adoring your mother more and more with each passing day (even if from “afar”).
That might not be evident if anyone asks what I did for her on Valentine’s Day. There was no grand romantic gesture, no roses, no dinner reservations…nothing except for a card and a cookbook I spied her looking at on Amazon. But that, in part, is what makes her so special because she was just as happy as if I did do all those aforementioned things (I think).
I don’t think either of us have ever explicitly said it aloud, but having you around has been a such a treat and a boost for our emotional intimacy. I don’t know what it is, but it’s some combination of just seeing you in your mother’s arms, the joy on her face (even in the dead of night), and whatever expression or noise you decide to give us. I can’t believe it’s already been one month. Like they say, “time flies.”