The first in an ongoing series of guest bloggers 

Admittedly, there are times I just want to scream at the top of my lungs in frustration, shove Eirinn into my husband’s arms and run for the hills.

Not permanently, of course, but for a break. A good, long, relaxing baby-work-husband-housework-free break. In my mind, after these imaginary breaks (because, as a mother, real-life breaks are few and far between), I come running back to Eirinn and my husband and even work (not housework, though; it can stay gone) with my arms wide open, refreshed and ready to face the next challenge that makes me want to hightail it temporarily.

But, much more often (thank the good lord), there are times that I am so overwhelmingly filled with happiness and appreciation for the life I was given.

An example of these times is at night when I’m putting Eirinn to sleep. We have a routine that varies day to day (which, by definition, would not normally be a routine, but to us it is). Some days we bathe, others we play, but it always includes saying good night to daddy, making a ‘baba’ and holing up in my bedroom.

I sit on the bed, feeding Eirinn her milk, with the lights off. The tv is on low, but I don’t watch it much. I mostly watch my little sleepy angel, drinking away, her eyes getting heavy and her little fingers slowly, gently touching her hair and cheeks.

When the baba is gone, I slip her soother into her mouth, give her her snuggy blanket and we sit for a moment, just staring at each other. I pet her face and kiss her in my favourite little spot between her eyes and then I take her to her crib. One last kiss on the cheek and the routine is over.

Anyone who has spent more than five minutes with Eirinn (and I mean anyone — just ask the sales guy at Home Depot), knows that Eirinn is a handful. Well…maybe slightly more than a handful; more like an armful or two. Before she could walk she learned how to turn the tv on and off and on and off and on and off faster than I could run five feet.

So, this makes our evenings even more special. I love being the one to put her to bed, and my heart literally aches if I can’t for more than one day in a row. I know a day will come when she won’t need a baba and my job will simply be to tell her it’s bedtime, and that will be ok.

But for now, I am going to soak every minute in and realize that I have been given these evenings as a reward for not screaming, shoving Eirinn into my husband’s arms and running away.

Jennifer O’Donnell lives in Bowmanville with Eirinn, age 1, husband Niall and dog Bosco. 

Possibly related posts:

1. I want to remember
2. Peace
3. Dance & snarf
4. How you know you’re getting old and crotchety
5. Us, now