Last night, Cate slept from midnight until 8:30 this morning.
(Drops to knees, sings “hallelujah” chorus.)
She might’ve slept longer, except I did that new-mommy panic thing where you think “oh god, she hasn’t woken up yet, something must be wrong,” so I crept into the nursery to check on her. And she was just fine. She had gotten one arm out of her swaddling blanket and was holding it up in sort of a “fight the power” fist above her head, but otherwise she was still pink, still breathing, and most importantly, sound asleep.
Of course, ten seconds after I tiptoed out of the room, she woke up. Stupid creaky floorboards.
And I realize that I have just totally jinxed myself by writing about this, and she’ll probably never do it again until she’s 15. Oh well. For now, me = ecstatic.