My commute kind of sucks. No, I take that back. My commute fucking sucks.
I try to pack whatever I need the night before, especially if I have to take blankets or diapers or whatever to daycare, and I set the dishwasher to run before I go to bed. (I have a small counter-top dishwasher, which is perfect for the two of us. It hooks up to the sink in the kitchen and uses the water from the faucet. You hook it up, turn the faucet on, and leave it.)
In the mornings when Smiley is with me, I set my alarm for way earlier than he usually wakes up, so I can shower and get myself ready before he wakes. (Although I don’t put on my work clothes until right before leaving the door–I learned my lesson in the spit-up days.)
This morning when I woke up I heard a weird noise. Sometimes the hot-water heater makes noises when it’s filling, but that didn’t make sense–the dishwasher should have finished hours ago. Besides…the noise wasn’t coming from the utility room, it was coming from the kitchen.
In a moment of realization, I dash into the kitchen, kicking one of Smiley’s toys in the process, making a total racket, and turn off the kitchen faucet, which has been running for hours. I can’t even imagine what that will cost me in my water bill. I check the dishwasher and there’s no error message and it looks like it ran but I can’t be sure.
By then it’s getting later, and I realize I need to get myself ready. So I jump in the shower. The freezing cold shower.
Shit. The faucet’s been running so long that the hot-water heater must have emptied. And I don’t have time to wait for it to heat back up, so I brace myself and take a quick cold shower. (What, you thought I needed to take it because of some other reason? ;) )
I’m thrilled to dry my hair, and I use the blow dryer on my feet, too.
I get ready…and…Smiley’s still asleep. Absolutely sound asleep. No signs of waking.
I check my e-mail, Facebook, Twitter. Check to make sure Smiley’s breathing. Twiddle my thumbs just for a bit. It doesn’t seem right to wake him.
Oh! He lets out a cry! It stops as quickly as it started, but that must be a sign he’s waking!
I go and check on him. Nope. Phantom cry. He’s quiet and deeply sleeping. Hmm. What to do?
I gave in to my “oh my god, my baby’s growing up” urges and I picked him up and cuddled the heck out of him. He put his head on my shoulder and snuggled into me and just slept.
I was in heaven.
I rubbed his back. I put my cheek on his head and his soft hair tickled my face. I warmed up his perfect little feet. I admired his perfect tiny fingers. I tried to remember how small he used to be and how he fit into my arms even just a year ago, but there is only now. My perfect little boy and me.
I cuddled him until he woke, and the first thing he said upon waking was “tractor,” even as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
I set the dishwasher to run during the day, hoping it doesn’t detach from the faucet again. The skies opened up and we got soaked getting to the car. Traffic was a mess. I was an hour late to work. But none of it mattered.
And the cold shower? Practically forgotten. I’m in love.