Early But Not That Early

It’s 7:30 a.m. on a Thursday and I am in bed, sandwiched between two noisy sleepers. It feels absurdly early, even though it’s not really early at all, because we didn’t go to bed until close to 2:00 a.m. and then I woke up at 5:50 to feed Dylan and never fell back asleep, partly because of the aforementioned noisy sleepers, but also because I napped too long yesterday and drank too much caffeine in the evening and because I very rarely experience one-off bouts of sleeplessness.

Dylan is the baby, by the way. She is five weeks old, and our late night has precious little to do with her, and lots to do with the fact that we’ve made no effort to put the family on any kind of reasonable schedule since I’m on maternity leave and Bob is on a caramel hiatus and there’s always something on Netflix or Hulu that we suddenly need to watch in the middle of the night and staying up late with an amenable baby on our laps is too hard to resist.

I can’t believe how long it’s been since I’ve written here. I’m paralyzed by this space and the time gone by and the fact that I didn’t want to alienate people by turning this into a pregnancy and then a parenting (don’t make me say mommy) blog. That’s stupid, though. I had no problem dragging you all through a long, difficult year of adjusting to marriage and work and then through a Mormon thought transition of relevance to only the nichest of audiences. The next chapter is parenting. I expect I will still write about marriage and work and Mormonism and feminism and my dog, because I wouldn’t be a parent without all those things, and all of those things shape the kind of parent I will be, but there’s another layer now, another dimension, another person in my life, and I can’t pretend she’s not here any more than I can stop writing.

So, welcome Dylan. And good morning, world.

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