This morning I watched the sunrise with a clear head and a rested body, courtesy of eight hours of sleep that had only been interrupted once by my lovely baby. Though she slept eight hours straight at seven weeks old, her sleep patterns seem to reflect what is true of much of life of babies: constantly changing.
This morning I watched as several local runners tested their fitness running across town, up the backside of the mountain and down the front. The air was crisp; their breath was visible. Completely unrelated to my newly well-rested state, the itch to train a bit more has been present the past couple weeks. Whether working full time and coaching beyond that or staying at home with an infant, I like to have a fitness project to call my own. I am starting to set my sights on a race or two in the spring—still six months out.
This evening I finished projects, pureed baby food, folded laundry and ran errands. I had forgotten how much I could get done with a decent night’s rest. I am remembering what it felt like to make it to six at night without desperately wishing that I could call it a day and go to bed.
This evening I realized what perspective seven months with a baby can give you. How quickly she has taught me that the world continues with a messy kitchen, a full laundry basket, and eyes that droop with fatigue. How quickly I have learned to just be with her, to just sit and watch her explore, to just roll around on the floor with her, my number one goal just to make her smile.
These days I am nothing short of exhausted, but most days I am also incredibly content. I would never want to stay in baby land forever, but for now it hits the spot.