On the days that Liz works H and I are usually in survival mode. In the mornings it is a race to get out the door, backpack, computer bag, and milk cooler in tow. In the evening it is a race against traffic and time to get home so we can have a few minutes before bath and bedtime to hang out. Usually it is a hurried ten minutes as I get everything out and ready, as we talk and tell each other about our respective days. For some reason his always sound better than mine! Usually, I feed him and spend a quite minute or two as he falls asleep, rocking in the chair, then I put him down and go play a little NCAA Football, check email, or catch up on news and PTI, trying to get a few quite moments before Liz gets home.
I don't know if it was the cold, damp, Indiana fall day, the lack of sleep from last night, or what, but tonight we just sat and rocked away for much longer than usual. I couldn't put him down. I just sat there holding him, his arm splayed across my chest, his deep baby breaths, Mozart playing softly in the room, and we just sat there. The quite house, dark, heating up as the furnace kicked in for one of the first times this fall, and his sweet milk breath, warming my neck.
Milk breath moments
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