Tomorrow is Sunday. Growing up it was a nice day of rest. Go to church, see friends there, be spiritually fed and uplifted, go home, literally be fed, nap and get ready for a new week. It was a rude awakening to go back to church after Vincent was born. Trying to get a baby to sleep in arms for two hours just doesn't happen. A shortened nap means a grumpy baby and a frazzled mom. Round #2 with Kate has been rough as well, but I'm armed with experience and have gotten better at being flexible with naps and nursing on Sundays.
The real clincher, though, is that every Sunday I get to dress up my little babe. I go through the closet and sort through her drawers to find a darling outfit each week. I love that it is perfectly acceptable for baby girl bums to stick out of skirts and dresses. In fact, I think everyone wants to see those squishy legs (and if you don't, there's something wrong with you). But seriously, seeing my girl all dolled up makes Sunday just that much better.
Tomorrow I will be in the thick of it with many other moms who wake their babies from naps, nurse in a crowded room full of stinky diapers, and get back aches from rocking their (not so) little ones to sleep. But Kate will be dressed up, and I will love it.