Today was a day of firsts. Truman started fussing this morning, his first difficult time so far in his life. I was mourning the loss of my zen babe, and wishing for a deep clean - it had been at least four days since the last time I'd washed my hair.
All of the sudden around noon, Truman threw up all over the place. I changed him and he was all calmness and tai chi once again. I watched him in amazement as he waved his arms at his frog gym, and seized the moment. In a matter of minutes, I was in the shower while he played quietly next to the bathtub, cozy on another of our cushy playmats, a stuffed Noah's ark with a particularly interesting tag (every baby's favorite thing to wonder over) sticking out in arm's reach.
I could hardly believe my luck as I washed my hair twice, conditioned, and then...wait for it...started a bath. It was my first bath in at least three weeks, and the first time my belly button has been immersed in - I don't know how long. It wasn't until I turned off the water that I could even hear him, his excited breathing as he waved his arms at the brightly-colored toy.
Once I could hear him, of course, I started feeling guilty for missing his cuteness, and I had a much-shorter-than-usual soak. But...I was clean, and I had my zen babe back. And all it took was a little regurgitated milk.