My daughter wouldn't fall asleep at my brother-in-law's house last night. We'd planned for her to go to bed there (around 7) while we partied on. I breastfed her, she was sleepy. She fell asleep—I mean, OUT—twice in my arms and twice I put her down in her pack & play. Both times, she freaked.
You know how babies open their eyes just a tiny, tiny bit when you're putting them down? Apparently it's just enough for them to notice, "Hey, this isn't my house. I don't know this room. Oh God oh God am I ever going home again how dare you put me down in this strange place are you ever coming back Mom is that the last I've seen of the boob? THE BOOB?"
And so the crying goes on.
I was sad I couldn't stay; my husband stayed. I drove my daughter home and she went to bed here without any fuss. She wasn't even asleep when I put her down. She babbled and cooed a little to herself in her room and then it was silent.
Even though our house is little and there's no front door (Yep. Don't worry, putting a front door on our house is next on our big, save-up-for-it to-do list.) Even though her room is small and there's no cohesive nursery theme to it. Even though the glider intended for her nursery has become a fixture in our living room.
She knows home. I'd like to say that she loves home, but all I really can tell is that she's comfortable here. She's happy here.
All I want is for it to stay that way, even though there may be times when she grows older that she wants to run away. Even though she may sneak out, or lie to us about where she's going. Even though it may not be our house forever, our home is where she's happiest.
And that's about the greatest accomplishment of my life.
P.S.—I told you the other day there'd be news to come. Well, the kick-ass women writers at TheEpistolarians.com are going to feature one of my posts! It has to be original content, so I'm hard at work (while baby naps) on getting something awesome and fresh ready to go. That's another little accomplishment. Good days. Little things. I'll TAKE it.