The other day I did something insane.

Okay. More insane than usual.

I baked bread, cleaned my house and prepared a balanced meal.

No I didn’t. But that woulda been cool.

I did something weirder. Against all reason and logic. Don’t ever do this no matter what kind of behavior.

I woke a sleeping baby for no particular reason.

I was gone all day. And I mean ALL DAY. I was gone the night before. I got home at 10pm, the whole house was asleep. I walked into her room. I saw her lying there in her crib. I felt weak in the knees loving her.

I walked out.

I went into Ava’s room, touched her head. Love. Went into my room, saw Rocket on our floor, where he’s been planted every night for the past year or so. Whatevs.

Then I brushed my teeth and got into my own bed. And then I felt it. This yearning. This need. For my baby. I just needed to smell her and touch her. I just needed HER.

I thought “you can’t just PICK HER UP, jackass, she could be awake for hours and then you’ll be awake for hours and regret the whole thing and be exhausted and hate your life tomorrow.” My next thought was “Whatever. If that happens I’ll deal with it then. For now, I want my baby.”

And like a freaking maniac I got UP from my bed went into her room reached into the crib and lifted her onto my chest. Her face fell against me. There.

We sat in the rocking chair and nursed. That lazy, half-interested, sleepy nurse. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I smothered my nose against her face.

And she did wake up. And it did suck a little. But my god it was worth it. Every single bit of it.

While I was rocking with her in that silent house, having broken a cardinal rule of motherhood, watching her eyes flit open and lock mine and her lips spread into a sly smile, I thought to myself “Well now, this sure isn’t something I would have done with my first kid.”

It’s true. I NEVER would have done that with Ava, even if I really really really wanted to. Would have been too worried about it. What if she doesn’t go back to sleep? What if she wakes up at 10pm for the rest of her life? What if what if what if what if. Always so worried about DOING IT WRONG.

But I guess that’s one of the joys of having multiple kids – ya just don’t give a shit any longer. It’s all so damn crazy, what’s one more sleepless night? What’s one more tired day? What’s one more hour spent soothing a toddler?

And in the end, what am I gonna remember?

There’s quite a freedom there. It almost makes up for the fact that there are three kids around irritating me all the time. Almost. ALMOST.

B y the way, on a less cuddly note, do you ever feel like telling your kids when they’re bitching about something totally trivial and ultimately irrelevant (like a lost water bottle or Lego or how their sibling mistreated them again), “Look, you’re gonna have to find somebody more interested in this kind of thing because I can’t even muster a response.”

Oh, okay. Well I do.

Sometimes.