My first weekend without Marlowe— sort of. Marlowe’s father took her Saturday and Sunday from 10 to 6 each day. He brought her back early on Saturday because I had *almost* but not enough milk. I wanted to know when she was out of milk so I could meet them back at my house… he waited a bit too long and I was handed a swollen faced crying baby in the evening. Sunday he said he got by just fine with the milk I gave him– but Sunday night Marlowe was not a happy camper. Puking, pooping, and up crying all night long. Let’s just say– I was not pleased. I knew hours and hours away would be hard on both of us, but what was even more difficult was to see her paying the price for that time away. Poor little thing. She seems to be readjusting to boob time. She is trying to stay on there much longer than needed. I don’t mind all that much, everything else around me will have to wait until she readjusts and clings onto me a little less, but man is she extra clingy now.
Friday night Marlowe, Anita, &I all went to the Northwood area. I wasn’t aware of this, but apparently there is a monthly art night in that area. The heat and humidity was killer though, so we left not to long after we arrived. We went into Harold’s Coffee House, where Monica had her “Water Babes” showing.
Afterwards we headed back to my place to meet up with Eric’s mom (our lovely babysitter) and a bunch of friends to hang out a bit before heading out.
We headed to the German bar down the street, but there was an event going on and it was overcrowded with people. Michelle was brave and sat inside to play photohunt. Eric, Kelly and I sat outside for a drink then quickly left for the other bar.
literally a minuteman. He popped up at the bar for a minute.
Saturday: Marlowe’s father met at my house to pick up the little one. I packed up her food and clothes, fed her a bit, and she was on her way. It was difficult watching her cry, but there was nothing I could do. I knew, the more I tried to hold her to help her stop the harder it would be when he took her.
After they left, I heading off to my dad’s house. My little brother was having a surprise party…. in May. His real birthday? Beginning of January. The most surprising surprise ever. His reaction was priceless. Stunned face. “It’s not my birthday” &storms into his room embarrassed with a train of 15 kids following chanting happy birthday. Perfect.
Sunday: Marlowe’s father came by at 10 to pick her up again. She cried less this time. I was able to hand him a bit more milk and walked her out to the car this time. They left. I made chickpea salad. Eric came by and we headed to Steve and Kristine’s for a bbq/pool party to celebrate Vinny&Veronica— Kristine’s lungs.
The best part of Sunday? Gator time in the pool with Kristine &Anita. The other best best best part? Going home to pick up my little babycakes and bringing her back out to the party 🙂
All things considered– I think this weekend went pretty well. I had just enough milk, so no formula was needed. I kept as busy as I could to keep my mind from worrying too much about Miss Marlowe. I had a blast with friends. Marlowe returned all in one piece, only: needier and fussier than before, but hopefully that changes soon. I think we did alright.