Until about 3 weeks ago, my baby shared my bedroom and my dresser and solely lived off sustenance provided by my body; he woke up in the night, and I would feed him and hold him and fall back asleep with his breath against my cheek. It was exhausting, in reality, but in hindsight, it sounds sweet.
As of today, none of that is any longer true. First, we transitioned him to eliminate night feedings, then we moved him in with his 2-year-old brother. He now sleeps there from 8:30 p.m. or so until 8:00 a.m., give or take. (Once, we even had to wake him up at 10:00!) My husband and I like being able to sleep all night in the same bed and having the option of talking to one another while we're there in our own room.
Last week, we bought a $30 dresser off of Craigslist, and it matches perfectly! It's solid wood (pine, I think), with freshly painted red drawers boasting brand new hardware.
Now that Josh's clothes are in his own dresser, my socks and unmentionables are finally free to mingle loosely in my dresser drawers instead of being crammed tightly together with no room to breathe. And I'm happy for them.
My baby will be 7 months old this week, and today was his for-real start on anything but breastmilk, and he loved it! The weaning process has begun. A part of me likes the idea of going to fewer feedings a day and even *gasp!* transitioning him to a bottle, at some point.
But then there's another part of me that feels guilty for being happy that my dresser is my own. I sort of miss him, and when I don't, I feel sad and think I should. The mommy-guilt is stupid, sometimes, isn't it?
I feel so guilty that I have to post another picture just to show you that I really do love my Josh-a-boo baby. Isn't he a cutie?
This is a very silly, sappy
reminding you that the days may be long, but even half a year seems oh-so-short!