Motherhood

Being a mother.  

There's just nothing like it.

I sleep with my baby.  He's so warm and toasty and smells just delicious.

We fall asleep together nursing. And then sleep curled up together.

Is there anything better than that?  His darling face is the first thing I see in the morning.  I often wake to his chubby little hand curled around my finger.

Last night the three year old joined us because she was not feeling well--a little feverish.  The ten year old came to bed, too, because the three year old can't sleep without her.  A little crowded, but River and I curled up tighter.  

In the middle of the night I adjusted myself and realized I was wet.  Oh no.  I felt around in the dark, under the blankets, to assess the damage.  What I felt was not just wet.  It was slimy.  And it was everywhere.

River's diaper had not held up and he left his bright yellow breastfed baby mark on my legs, my side, the sheets and all over his legs.  

Cleaning up poo at 4am.

Motherhood.   It's the grossest job you'll ever love.