After three weeks of cooped-upped-ness (the “-ed” in that second syllable is pronounced, please), I at last managed to get out the door yesterday, Lydia in tow, for an afternoon in town. The sun shone, the baby slept, there was almond gelato and lunch with Mitch and Morgan, and I felt a little like stretching my arms and exalting in the small joys of doing such normal things in this new way.
Today was different story. There was lots of spit up and rain and no napping and some wrestling with a car seat and the collecting of a urine sample (no worries about that, by the way – the kid’s fine). Every day, these days, is wildly different.