Just Doing It

I'm a "no going back" type. Things I do are usually last minute decisions that have been playing out in slo-mo in my mind for YEARS and then are carried out instantaneously at the drop of a hat. Where to go to University, to live in S. America for a year, to apply for Teach for America and relocate to NY the day after our Montana wedding. And more recent events such as buying a home upstate while maintaining an apartment in the city, stopping the bottle for Ash, moving him from his crib to his toddler bed to his brand new big boy room and bed... all things that I blinked and decided to just do.
FYI: The ways we chose to grow our family were most certainly NOT one of those things. Just, you know, to clear up a couple possible wonderings...

Anyhow.

Tonight we're moving Leni to her crib. In her room. That means she's there right now, as I type, and daddy is currently disassembling the pack n play she's been sleeping in for the past month or so (after she upgraded from the bassinet where she spent her first 3-4 weeks) so that I do not have the option to move her back in to a crib in our room. Well, there's always the option to bring her in to bed with me (which is likely to happen...) but that will always be there no matter what. So, as she lies there all by herself in her very own crib in her very own room with her only company being Baby Tad and the Hitachi Magic Wand, I wonder where the freaking hell the last 2 months have gone. Honestly.

So. We're just doing it.

Why?

Because.

Monday.

Monday, I go back to work. And Monday I need to not be popping up every 45 minutes in the middle of the night to make sure the snort I heard wasn't her esophagus spontaneously combusting. I need to know that when we all awake to perform "the routine" bright and early Monday that we'll all be as rested as humanly possible. Now, I'm not that nuts. I get what "humanly possible" means in my situation, trust me. Which is why it's even more important to optimize the "possible" part of the phrase.

So. As I listen to her non-combustible snort over the baby monitor and watch Ash absolutely glue his eyes to the baby monitor screen so that he can proclaim "THERE'S BABY HELENA IS SHE OK???" every 30 seconds I ask only this:

May the bright eyes of the Gods, Karma, and Leonardo DiCaprio bless us with a calm and blissful transition this night. And may no esophagus be discovered combusted.