Nobody Does it Better

My husband's a baby guy.  Let me explain.  Some men are great with kids as long as they can articulate when they're hungry, when they need to go to the bathroom and can wipe themselves, but are uncomfortable being left with an infant.  They just don't know what to do with babies.  My husband's not one of those men.  He reaches for Ellie as soon as he walks in the door, not even leaving enough time to change out of his work clothes.  He changes diapers ( and doesn't leave any remnants behind in those little baby rolls for me to clean later).  He swaddles her like a little burrito.  He sings and sways her every night- she won't go to bed when Mama does it.  So, tonight, when he offered to take Ellie to a mutual friend's house to give me a few hours to myself to, eh hem, shower and maybe have a glass of wine, I should have kissed him, got on my pj's and retrieved the bottle from the fridge.  Instead, I fought the panic slowly rising in my throat- the images of all of the terrible things that could happen to them on the 15 minute trip to our friend's house and willed myself not to voice the protests rising in the back of my mouth.

Though it sounds like an acted out version of the Carly Simon classic, I don't believe that no one can care for her as best as I can.  I know Rich can protect and love her just as well, if not better, than I.  It was the sudden realization that, though I spend all day with her as she cries, poops through yet another outfit, refuses to go down for a nap, smiles after farting- don't tell her I posted that- and all the other little things that make me want to call Rich at noon and tell him to hurry up and come home, the thought of being separated from her is physically painful.  The knowledge of being separated from the both of them that make up our little family, even for just a few hours, is nearly unbearable.  Alas, so is the fact that I haven't sat down yet today.

So, I waved goodbye to them from the window and said more than a few urgent prayers for their safety and my sanity.  My pj's are on and I've got a beautiful glass of Riesling in my hand- and I'm trying not to count down the minutes until my family comes home. I'll get better at this eventually.