It was one of those days.
The kind where everyone complains when you are just trying to do you best.
Where you needed a hug when you walked though the door but the husband had a post-work event and the baby prefers screeching and back-arching to cuddling.
The kind where mashed avocado ends up in your hair, on the floor, ground into the highchair and up the baby's nose....but not in his mouth.
Where powdered formula covers your kitchen and your favorite work skirt.
And the cat puked. And you step in it.
The kind of day where you take off the baby's diaper and discover a terrible rash that wasn't there this morning.
And, not thinking, you start to bathe the baby, and he releases a painful scream when his bum hits the water. You feel like the world's worst mother.
And you forget to bring a towel into the bathroom, so you become towel instead.
Finally, after screams and squirms, rash cream is applied, a new diaper is secured and pajamas are buttoned.
After settling yourself and the screaming baby into the rocking chair you feed him.
With each gulp his breath slows and his eyelids droop.
When you pull the empty bottle away from his lips the baby shuts his eyes and his muscles unclench. He falls asleep in your arms, something he hasn't done since his first week of life.
And even though the kitchen's a disaster, the phone is ringing, the garbage needs to go out and you have a blog to write, you remain in the chair.
Your breath slows and your eyelids droops.
And you try to savor the moment because every one keeps telling you these moments go by fast.
Before you finally lay the baby in his crib you say a prayer of thanks to God for such a wonderful day.