Walking into our room right now feels like the opening montage to a family comedy: the ever-flowing laundry basket strategically placed near the door, the exhausted parents’ pile of clothes that lie where they fell at the end of the day, the exploding diaper bag that with one child was usually tidyish (I denounce anyone who says there’s is always tidy. Otherwise I want all of your parenting secrets. I can’t decide.) The bathroom now acts as a newborn triage center at night, with a floor diaper station, a change of clothes and bottles and burp cloths galore. In theory, one parent holes up in there at 3 am while the other catches some zzz’s. In reality, one is doing the work and the other parent lobs encouragement over the wall of sleep.

While Remy grunted next to the bed, Tess wailed over the monitor. I trudged down the hall with a loaded syringe of Tylenol to tame her raging gums, wondering how I was going to get the drugs into her without fully waking her up. (Tess despises medicine – and currently shoots murderous looks at any adult who tries to see in her mouth. Yikes!) I pulled her into my arms and she did that melty baby thing, limp and folding into me. I swear, that move is biologically developed to make mommies swoon.

This time the triage took place in Tess’ bathroom. I gently squished all that gooey painkiller into her mouth before she could figure out who I was. By then she was too overwhelmed to care. Win! I picked her up again, and my now grape-scented daughter snuggled into my neck like I was the great comforter. I had moment during her sticky snuggle, where I wondered,

When did this happen? This kid trusts me implicitly. This sleepy child whose giggles make my whole week at some point decided that grape Tylenol is okay because I gave it to her. This 4 am intervention comforts her, even though I can’t do much. How on earth did I get this lucky, and more importantly, how do I live up to this monumental trust and love?

Fortunately, I was half-asleep. That troubling challenge was only half-heard in my brain before I crawled back into bed. I fell asleep to Remy’s gassy groans, Dave’s snoring and Tess literally shaking the bars of her crib and whining a little in her sleep over the monitor. A year ago, the idea of this would have excited me and freaked me out. Now, it’s just the way it’s supposed to be.

Remy got his first bath today. Dave and I managed to get him washed together, despite the manly shower within a shower that Remy pulled off. We asked a friend for advice and are currently using Aquaphor mixed with a drop of olive oil for his skin, which now seems deliciously moisturized. A smudge of olive oil in his hair is supposed to keep it from drying out. It startled us by bringing out tons of tiny curls – so cute! We’re not sure if that’s a sign of success or failure. We’ll give you the full report when we get feedback. 🙂

Tess got to go swimming with her grandparents today before Rose and Dan have to leave. Time has flown, and I’m a bit nervous about waking up without them tomorrow! I’ve nicknamed them freedom. They are incredible. Our last dinner was punctuated by family stories on both sides so funny they made us cry, delicious food, and random kid interruptions, all over the sound of the surf. I can’t believe we get to live this life. We’re going to be home soon, but a chill few weeks with the coolest people in the world was crucial to our sanity. Thanks to all of our parents!