The Universe is Heavy Tonight

It might be the dull layer of chest cold that is hovering over me. It might be the oppressive humidity that sticks to your skin like watermelon juice. It might be the melodramatic, beautiful music I'm listening to on iTunes (Damien Rice). The mania of a little boy discovering the sprinkler for the first time this summer has mellowed into a quiet heaviness.

Nothing is ever really easy. You know the saying that goes something like, "True love shouldn't be hard"? I've never bought that. If your relationship is so easy that it never feels like an effort, you are incredibly special. I've never had an "easy" relationship because of this dang monologue that is always going on in my head. This absolutely singular "me" that remains nestled under the mommy-ness and the wife-ness sometimes tries to briefly forget the happy commitments that make my life secure.

My life is not in turmoil. My marriage is solid. We appreciate each other every day, I express my gratitude for his awesomeness every day. I revel in his adoration like settling into a warm, cozy featherbed on a winter's night.

Still, the universe is heavy tonight.

Let's lift the mood a bit. We started Anna on a course of gentian violet last night. That awful purple/blue dye that stains everything. The nystatin is a pain in the butt. I'm a dedicated, attentive mother, but I have a hard time remembering to give her a dose four times a day for two weeks. So instead of going through another course of the sticky goo, I decided I'd rather deal with the Purple Monster for four days. It's cute.

Anna is doing well in her new sleeping area in the dining room. She seems comfortable in there, and she's been sleeping soundly. She still wakes every couple of hours, but she's able to fall back asleep with some butt pats from Chris. Last night, she had a harder time getting to sleep after our night feeding, but I think that was an anomoly in our new system and was probably due to the humidity.

I was playing laptop games in the dining room tonight after I put Anna down. She wasn't sound asleep yet, and it seemed to comfort her that she could see me nearby as she drifted off. Ben came into the room a couple of times to see me. On the third time, he noticed Anna sleeping in the crib.

"Shhhh," he whispered to me with wide eyes.

With a smile, he started pushing his little chair over to the crib so he could climb up and peek in at her. It was a charming idea, but very detrimental to the continuity of Anna's sleep, so I stopped him, but I was delighted. "Shhh." He's never said that before.

When the weather cools off this weekend, Chris and I are going for a marathon stroller walk. He borrowed some discman speakers from a friend, and we're going to listen to an audiobook as we walk. We're hoping it will be good incentive to walk longer than we normally do, and to walk more often to hear the story. Our first trek will be three miles.