feeding the little man

I am a mother.

The baby that I cuddle, kiss, and admire all day long is still here when I go to bed. And he likes to wake me up in the night. Because only I can feed him. This is so different from babysitting. No more cuddling, kissing, admiring, and going home to sleep all night long.

Micah is a really good baby: he rarely cries, he feeds well, and he sleeps a lot. But taking care of a baby is still a lot of work, no matter how good he is. I knew in my head that my baby would need to be fed several times through the night, but how that feels in practice is a whole 'nother thing. It's that where am I?, what is that sound?, and why on earth am I waking up already?, feeling.

Other than the lack of sleep and general tiredness, motherhood is great. I love my baby boy. He is so amazing. I love it when he grasps my finger as if his life depended on it, when he reaches up and touches me while feeding, and when he has that drunk-on-milk-look that says "Thanks, Momma; I love you".

Well that little someone has waken up and is looking for some food. And since he can't yet raid the fridge, I should go. It may be only 8pm, but I'm hoping that by going to bed as soon as he's done feeding, I can get a couple extra hours of sleep in tonight. It's funny, because back in college I remember just going out for the evening at 10pm sometimes. Now I'm thrilled at the idea of going to bed at 9pm, or earlier. How things change!