First (as always, right?) a little background. When Fynn was born, Tom took a (blessed) month off from work. During that time, I pretty much stayed upstairs in our room with Fynn. She nursed all the time (so imagine my shock at what nursing her during a growth spurt was like!). I'm pretty sure had the same bedroom hangout routine with Madelyn, only our apartment was so tiny that no matter where everybody else was, our bedroom was right there. Bigger home makes the separation more significant, I think. Plus, Tom was busy taking care of Madelyn this time, as well as hanging out with Corey, preparing meals, doing the shopping and cleaning up the messes that Maisy was suddenly making all over our carpet. (Yes, I almost always realize how lucky I am.)
He was awesome. My favorite part of the whole deal was how much time he spent having fun with Madelyn. For the better part of the last year he'd been working full time at his unfulfilling day job and then putting in crazy hours trying to get his business off the ground. He frequently had commitments four nights a week (gotta save one night for tennis or softball or whatever the fix is at the time), plus he spent about 10 hours on Saturday either in training or trying to drum up more appointments for the upcoming week. Many weeks Mad only saw her Daddy for an hour or so on Saturday morning, all day Sunday and the occasional drive home together on Thursday (sports night). She loved him, no doubt, but she hardly saw him and didn't go to him for much of anything. Now they are best buddies and she clearly adores him.
The downside is that he hardly got to spend any time at all with Fynn. Although Fynn and I came downstairs periodically, I found the air conditioning blowing on us almost no matter where I sat. The one place it didn't hit us was in a seat Mad especially enjoys using as her own personal jungle gym, but only when the chair is occupied. So we stayed up and everybody else mostly stayed down.
The long-term effect is that Tom's not as comfortable with Fynn as he was with Mad at this age. Last weekend I convinced him to put Fynn in the Moby wrap while I got my hair lopped off. It worked beautifully. He wore her again today, twice. The first time I helped a little with getting the wrap on (right up to his comment, "This is a little like having my mom help me get dressed when I was a little... hey, no... I didn't mean it like that!"). The second time he did it entirely himself.
I used my free time to get a shower and also to work on the table and chairs that still need to be clear-coated. Between Corey and I, everything has it's first coat. A little buffing and a couple more coats and we may actually be able to use this fricking thing before it's two years old. At this point, though, we're racing against the weather. Fall is a pretty windy time in So Cal, and it's especially windy up here. Sometimes it sounds like a train's passing through if we have a window or two open in the evening. We could only work until about 2:15 today before it started kicking up. Seemed to be bringing a storm in, but we'll see. Corey and I are in complete agreement that we cannot believe we ever used to enjoy staining furniture.
The table and chairs aren't perfect. Heck, none of the pieces we've done together are, but there are some ridiculous errors on the chairs. However, after spending whatever free time we could find over the last month when it wasn't windy or humid (gah! didn't I move to the middle of an arid desert?) just trying to get the chairs "fixed," I have decided that those
This evening I was telling Tom (as Fynn nursed for pretty much her second solid hour in a row) that I feel pressure to get something done when he's got her. It's nothing he's doing or saying. I'm putting the pressure all on myself. So tonight, when Fynn nursed herself to sleep for the third or fourth time in three hours, but then woke up again as soon as I tried to put her down, I changed tactics. And her diaper. And took her downstairs to Tom. I believe he's rocked her to sleep.
I should be sleeping now, too. He probably is sleeping in the glider. Instead, I came online to type with two hands and without hunching over. I've had about 45 minutes of free time. It's been lovely.
But I believe I hear a tiny, but effective set of lungs calling for me.