Apple Cake Victory Dance

My daughter napped again for the second day in a row, and I am a new woman.

Oh, it's not like she never naps. She naps often, about 20-30 minutes at a time. In my arms. And then as soon as I go to put her down her eyes snap open and she either smiles or cries. It's quite devastating. And we're back to the drawing board, me trying to coax out another nap another 45 minutes or hour later.

And then yesterday happened. I had low expectations of you, Monday. I put our little swaddled Rebecca on my shoulder, played with my iPod, rocked in our glider and let her cry a bit and then doze on my damp from drool, cramped-from-holding-it-still-and-upright shoulder for 35 minutes. Then I turned off the iPod. Stood up. Tiptoed ever so quietly to put her down, and of course, as always, her hazel-blue eyes popped open. I nearly ducked, as to not make eye contact. But then, to my complete shock, her eyes closed, her face a vision of peace and repose.

Oh, the joy of having the next two hours (Two! hours!) to myself. I answered emails to colleagues and friends. Called people back. Did a bit of work. Contemplated my dissertation. Sat on the couch and closed my eyes. It was beautiful.

And again, today. She went down from 11:45-2. I may have never known such happiness. I'm sort of kidding. After answering some obligatory emails and prepping for class, I asked myself, what would I like to do? Jake was home for a spell and he asked if I wanted to go for a run. No, not really. It's not that a breastfeeding woman can't run; of course she can. However, a couple times I had an enormous struggle getting Becca to nurse after my workouts. I felt like we were wrestling; she was so fussy. Isn't fussy such a very polite word for "screaming her head off"? I called a local breastfeeding support group and learned a bit about lactic acid buildup changing the flavor of breast milk. Who knew? So I'd rather not ever go through that again. Now I try to run right after she nurses on Saturday and Sunday mornings; otherwise it's nearly impossible.

So with some time on my side, I made a cake. Chopped, stirred, and tasted a luscious, fall-esque apple cake. Again (I made it a few weeks ago).

We have plenty of apples after we went to Eckert's apple orchard in Belleville for apple-picking a week ago on an unseasonably warm fall day. Jake and Rebecca strolled through the orchard together. She screamed most of the time due to the heat and most likely being overtired (see above), but I suppose it didn't matter. I remember last fall when just Jake and I drove out to Illinois to pick apples three days after I took a pregnancy test. We felt so giddy and kept hugging. Jake had eaten his first apple (really), and I made a cake afterward too.

Cheers to fall, and to making traditions. It's finally starting to feel less like summer.