party's over

Today concludes what was a beautiful three weeks of together time for our family. And, perhaps she really does listen well, because I have explained to Eliana that tomorrow mama goes back to work and she'll be going back to Caroline's and now she is howling from her crib like an insane person. She doesn't do this often and when she does it just wrecks me. Plus she's smart enough now to know how to put it on. What began as fake-ish whines has turned in to all out, gut-wrenching heaves, sobs and hyperventilating. "Mama! Mama! Mama! I want Mama! I NEED Mama!"

Jeff's in there now helping her take deep breaths and I'm so thankful to have this computer taking up a bit of my attention. She's going down fast and her breathless little sobs are pulling at my heart strings the way she pulls at her little violin ("just a pretend one").

But another minute has gone by and my beautiful husband and she are actually conversing. The crying has stopped. I am so thankful for that man. He and she have such a beautiful thing going. I am such a sap, such a pushover and thank goodness I have a man with such a distinguished backbone.

The post holiday haze found us at the hot springs yesterday. What a perfect way to spend the day. The drive out to Quinn is sort of Montana surreal. The icy Flathead River snaking it's way on our left, brown rolling, desolate hills on our right, the craggy Missions a ways in the distance. The different options of water temperature proved perfect for prego and toddler too. We floated and laughed and soaked til our fingers looked like little pasitas. She looked more beautiful to me in that water than she has ever before. Her cheeks so rosy, curls wound and humidified. She was so calm, so perfectly at peace in that soft mineral water with her mom and dad.

That's the kind of holiday we've had. Days where she's stayed in her jammies all day. Daddy painting her nails orange while I hike Lucy on Waterworks. Dad on a ski adventure while we go to the bookstore, visit friends, go around town. The three of us on the bunny hill, Eliana making a grand debut on the downhill terrain (though she mainly stayed in her papa's arms). The way we always come together again for meals and baths and books. For picnics on "pillow hill." For dancing in the living room.

It's bittersweet, but the way it has to go. Vacation wouldn't be so special if we didn't work as hard as we do.

Jeff has shut the door and the sobs have begun again. I don't know what to do. She knows how to make herself puke. That could really set us back. I was so proud of how early I put her to bed, knowing what a full day we have tomorrow. Now it's an hour later and she's still awake, still howling. The screams are getting louder. The baby is rolling, making jerky waves in my belly. I know this is one of those moments. One that I will have many more of.

Jeff's returned to valiantly sing Baby Beluga. Again, how I love that man.

I don't know how this night will end. But I'll look beyond it. I predict a wild, full winter followed by a sweet, spring arrival. And that's the only chunk of time I can hold on to. Beyond that is the this timeless, sunny, howling unknown.