We went to church — the first time in almost four weeks. Oi. It is just so much more difficult and less rewarding with Elinor. Getting anywhere at a specified time is a miracle in and of itself, and then, within minutes, Elinor will make her hungry little o-face and I will shuffle off to the nursery to nurse, half listening to the sermon being piped in through an intercom, half dealing with my ravenous little girl. Dads of screaming toddlers will come in and will be slightly embarrassed to see me nursing, and will try to quiet their kids since Elinor is obviously falling asleep, and I will feel guilty. I wish I felt comfortable nursing in the service. Hmmm. Gone is the quiet contemplation of church for me — here is the vigilance of a new mom.

I did, however, make it back up for communion this Sunday, a first at church since her birth.  She actually fell asleep as we sang and finished out the service. A miracle!

Then we came home and both Elinor and I fell asleep for almost four hours in the afternoon laze. I woke to watch Chad do manly things, like take apart the ancient tile in our lower bathroom, clean the cat’s corner, and save a bitty mouse that Iza cornered in the laundry room after he left the outside door open. It was a cute mouse, and my city girl was at odds with my country girl over whether or not to let Iza do her thang. Chad rescued it. Ahh. He was productive; I was not.

By the time I had made a dinner, hung out with the little one, nursed her to sleep, and collected myself,  it was almost ten. I was desperate to get to the grocery store — our fridge was sorely lacking — and I decided to just go, at 10:30 at night, as Chad tumbled into bed and Elinor hung out in nod-land. Fun, right? The grocery store so late on a Sunday night?

It kind of was. It was nice to get in the car, open the garage, and be me, driving into the weirdly humid night, arriving at a parking lot nearly empty, steering a squeaky and slightly left-leaning cart down empty aisles as the stocking crew rode loaders past me.

On the drive home I rolled the windows down and thought about the me of fifteen years ago, so young on summer nights, hanging out in grocery store parking lots or BelMar beach, basements of friends, reading in my room. Even just last year, on break from the schoolyear, summer nights were times to stay up late and read books and make outrageous plans for change — easily forgotten in favor of just being. It might take awhile to readjust to this type of summer.