I'm sitting in my daughter's kitchen, listening.
There is football on the television, the husband and son-in-law sharing a bottle of wine and coaching from the comfort of their respective seats in the family room. The princess grandchild has been tucked into bed, resplendent in her purple dress and sparkly shoes, because why not? The prince, now all of 48 hours old and counting, is tucked snugly in the crook of his Grandpa's arm, and a rush of warmth for my husband washes over me as I watch him sneak peeks at the tiny, precious cargo he's holding. There is a steady snoring emanating from the sofa, where my daughter is curled up in one corner, in the throes of a deep, completely uninhibited sleep borne of utter exhaustion.
There is the click of my keyboard, typing away in an earnest effort to capture a collection of moments I hope to never forget.
Baby and Mommy were released to come home today. As they were taking care of the paperwork and minutiae that accompanies hospital discharge, Grandpa and I cleaned a little. We scrubbed bathrooms, changed the kitty litter, washed a load of towels. We even cleaned windows! And when I say "we," it's sincere. My husband jumped right in and helped at every turn. He even paid for the groceries that I cooked up into meals that I then froze, so the kids would have some good, easy food at the ready as they navigate their new familial configuration.
Then we dressed Henley in a pretty new dress and ventured out to a local bookstore to meet Curious George, followed by lunch at "Chickell Flay," also known as Chick-fil-A, where we feasted on chicken nuggets, fwench fwies, and milk.
We got home in plenty of time to make a very special sign for Davis and Mommy and Daddy, which we hung it on the front door with stickers that the Lady in the Yellow Hat gave us earlier in the day, because we couldn't find any tape.
And then - finally - Davis came home!
The day was pretty low key as baby homecomings go; it was basically immediate family all afternoon and early evening. All three of we grandparents were here to make a fuss while the new family of four got a little settled in and tried to find their bearings. I cooked a nice meal - barbecue chicken, corn on the cob, roasted asparagus and tomatoes. We ate, we alternated turns holding the baby and entertaining (being entertained by) Henley. And now, here we are, winding down toward the first night with Davis in the house.
For the record, as I sit typing, it's been nearly 4 hours since he last ate. Of course, he spent most of the day eating, but that's not the point. He's going to wake up ravenous, but his mom is getting a much needed, well-timed nap.
Henley is doing surprisingly well and seems to be adjusting to life with a little brother a whole lot easier than I thought she might. Granted, he's only been home for an afternoon and there is plenty of time for her to rage against the machine...but I think it's going to be alright, on the whole.
He is, after all, just this side of perfect.
This. All of it.
This is why it's so damn hard to say good-bye and drive away.
But that doesn't happen until tomorrow. Later.
For now, I'm just enjoying the moments.
*Title quote taken from Anne Lamott's 'Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith.'