Went to my mom's house for the usual Sunday night dinner, like we've been doing for years. Decades, even.
Tonight's different. Diane and Melinda are bringing Jack over. His first night out with the family.
Melinda brought Jack into the house in his car seat/carrier thing. Every time I see him now, he looks the same and looks different. Is it possible that he changes so quickly? He's only 2 weeks old. He's in such demand - trying to get everyone's attention. Actually, he's just trying to remember how much he's learned about life in just 2 weeks. We're just getting suckered into providing for him and holding him and comforting him. At this age, that seems to be pretty simple - especially since we're not with him 24 hours a day. Melinda is doing a bang-up job, as well as Diane. They're dragging, though. His feeding cycles are a little tight, making for only very very short naps. Yes, they're dragging.
That picture above is of Jack as I took my turn holding him tonight. You know how hard it is to try to hold a camera with one hand and try to take a picture with a macro focus in low-light while trying to hold onto the subject with your other hand? It took a couple of tries - either I was too close and couldn't get the camera to focus or I moved too much and blurred the shot. I was fortunate, however. Jack had just been fed and was in one of his "Milk Coma's". Apparently after he feeds, he's just light's out. In fact, it was kinda scary because you couldn't even tell he was breathing. He would just lay there, so comfortable and peaceful. Every couple of minutes he would kind of sigh, this cute little high pitched, but quite whisper sigh and move around just a hair and then he would continue on dreaming of whatever he was dreaming about.
I sat on the couch in the living room. Mom finished putting away dinner, so she had to have her time with Jack, so I didn't have much time with him tonight. I felt so much different this week compared to last week. I didn't panic, I just held him and basically just kind of stared at him the whole time.. I couldn't really talk to him - there were others in the room. And he really wasn't listening - he was out cold.
It's that weird thing that takes over though, where you just look at him. You trace the arch of the cartilage on his tiny little ear. You check out his nose, his eyebrows. You absent mindedly stroke his back. Des it feel good? Does he care? He doesn't seem to react - he sees to be enjoying that deep sleep of his.
So Mom wrestled Jack away from me. That's the way it's going to be, I guess - Jack's going to be passed around and fought over for quite some time.
I guess the key is to treasure what time you have.