I go to put baby down for one minute to pour myself a glass of water (remember when 8 glasses a day was a reasonable feat?) only to realize that baby does not care if his mama is thirsty. He needs me and he needs me NOW.
My inner dialogue starts off on a rant: how breastfeeding mothers need to stay hydrated... how did I, soft spoken and easy going, get such a vocal baby... is water too much to ask for...what the hell are those other mothers doing to get their baby to sit in those stupid bucket car seats all damn day long...
I do what feels instinctual.
I take my wrap and, like second nature, start methodically wrapping baby up, tight against my chest. As I start the process of tucking and tying, baby resists. I bounce a little and reassure him. He melts. Head resting on my chest. Legs like little cooked linguini noodles. Soft breathing. By the time I tuck his little head in and pat his back a few times he's asleep.
I drink my water.
Wearing Jeremy also means that he is as much a part of this world as I am. When I walk through the market he walks through the market as well, smells, sees and hears what I do. When I wear him he interacts with the people we pass and they interact with him. And when he's such a part of my world I can talk to him about what were doing. His brain is always learning.