Sunday 20 February 2011


I'm sitting here working on tomorrow's breastfeeding article while the baby naps beside me. I can hear my older boy in the living room alternating between playing cars with his daddy and adding more to the fort he built yesterday for his baby "bruzzer". I have a nice cold iced cappuccino - so bad for me, so full of garbage, so very against my every food philosophy, and so very very good.

The baby will wake up soon and crawl into my lap to nurse. (This is far preferable to the way he wakes me up in the morning, when he grabs my travel-size alarm clock off the headboard, shoves it into my hand, and pulls my eyelid open with his finger. I wish I was joking, but I'm not.) For now, I'm just enjoying the quiet as I watch him sleep - his long eyelashes, his barely-open mouth, his little twitches, his tiny fingers, the tightly-swaddled blanket that he brought to me when he was ready for his nap.

This moment is perfect.

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