cat's away

Jake is on vacation at the grandparent's, so Dave and I have been pretending to be normal people for the past 24 hours. Last night was great, no lugging baby and bottles and binkies and blankets upstairs at nine. No Goodnight Moon. No Itsy Bitsy Spiders, except the one in the corner that I think may be either dead or catatonic. No diapers. No wipes. No jammies. No lights out before ten. No fist sucking to break the night silence. No breathing checks. No bug chew toys to soothe the pain of the four little teeth that are rearing themselves in the poor babe's mouth. After driving home from Jersey I simply brushed my teeth, washed my face, took off the work clothes, and enjoyed the post-Phillies game fireworks from the bay window. I read from a book with big words, and I tried to stay up to watch the news. I crapped out around half past ten and didn't wake up until ten after seven. Oh sweet bliss.

The day was perfect, no rushing home to pick up the baby or worrying how much he ate. I went to the gym after work, walked home, and carted Dave off to the new Mexican restaurante on Passyunk Avenue. We took a walk, checked out the new vinyl shop looking for some good Tijuana Brass, and came home to another night of no baby or bottles or binkies or blankets or books or bedtimes or bugs.

But booties? Oh, yes. There will be booties. And not those cute little blue ones that keep Jakey's toes warm.