comfortably still

I found this old post sitting in my drafts the other day – and it was pretty appropriate for last night and all the wake ups that came with it. Sharing now as it still rings true regardless of the age of your little one…

The pace of New York City is pretty much two speeds – on or off. When you’re fully connected into the pulse of the city, the fast pace can be energizing. It’s go, go, go – from wake up until that moment where your head meets the pillow. It’s the reason why locals can easily keep up with their tourist guests without blinking an eye, happily traipsing across boroughs and not tire.

However, when you’re used to that pace, sitting still can be a bit challenging. In my over nine years in the city, there have been very few weekends where I didn’t have plans at least one day. And I didn’t find myself staying in the house for multiple days in a row – not even while sick. There were even nights where I would bounce between three different parties or even two dates (back in the day, that is).

Since Q has arrived though, I’ve had days where this was my only option. Last week, for example, we had an exceptionally rough day on Thursday. I woke up with a reasonable idea of the day’s to-do list. I was planning on staying in, but had a few things I wanted to accomplish throughout the day.

But Q had other plans.

He was crying. Hysterical. He has his normal cry, and a higher pitched, more urgent cry he’s recently learned he’s capable of. That was the cry he was all about this Thursday. He was inconsolable. Feeding him, burping him, changing him, playing with him … none of it changed anything.

Not even itsy bitsy spider would work – and it’s the current miracle-saves-everything-Bandaid tactic. And I have to admit. I broke a bit. The sun had begun to set, and I didn’t even bother to turn on the light. We sat there in the very little remaining light and cried together.

Eventually he tired and I pulled him close, and he fell asleep across my chest. I didn’t care that we didn’t get out for our plans. All that mattered was that he was sleeping and content. He wasn’t the only one that was content. I sat there holding him in the almost dark and in that moment, it was all that I needed.