Letters to Holly

Wednesday, July 7

And So.

The common question for new parents concerns sleep. How often does the baby wake you up, I hear. He wakes up about twice a night for milk and changing, but that's not the real problem. No, what really affects you are these: the paranoia over every sound he makes, and the inability to fall back to sleep.

It's rare for him to sleep quietly. He wheezes. He snores. He clears his throat. All that mixes with my intention to get him to a bottle before the crying begins. My ears are cocked for the start of an outburst, and every chirp rouses me. Your Sister has it worse; she reacts to imaginary sounds. I'm at least dealing with real ones. But I can't drift asleep as easily as she can, as apparently all you people can. Half of my bedtime is spent trying to get unconscious. That's what racks up the damage.

Yesterday was a drama. Your Sister's younger cat was given a terminal diagnosis. It's an intestinal tumor, and the vet said she maybe has a few weeks. We'll keep her comfortable here and put her out of her misery when she inevitably can no longer eat. Also, our dryer gave out, and I rushed out to buy a new one. We hope it's delivered before the weekend. Fortunately, this nice weather let us sun-dry all the wet laundry.

We watched the semifinal World Cup match, and that first Netherlands goal may be my favorite of the tournament.

We visited a teacher friend Monday night and gave her the pineapple cake. We continue to savor the bakery cake ourselves.

No comments: