Things have changed so much already.
I want to remember.
Dave gets up early to work in the kitchen, Frankie and I sleep for as long as possible, she snuggled against me, sleepily feeding.
After eating porridge together, I try with varying degrees of success to 'Do Something'. To blog/write/do the washing whilst she plays on her mat on the floor, rocking on all fours and bashing her toys together gleefully. I make a mental map all of the places she is going to impale herself/choke on/ bump head off or generally hurt herself in our entirely un-baby friendly house. We get away lightly.
Dave works from home most days, in the kitchen. We make each other tea. Give each other amorous glances over our lunch. Take a walk. Get a coffee. Buy some bread. Or maybe make it.
There are baby groups, work meetings, trips to town, coffee shops, then re-convening at home at dusk. Dave takes Frankie. Plays with her until she is squeeling and quite hysterical with laughter. She is bathed and massaged. We fall in love (again) with her tiny naked wriggling body on the floor. She begins to rub her tired eyes, and call 'mama'. Quiet music. Dinner defrosting on the kitchen side, or simmering on the stove. She falls asleep on me and is transferred, floppy limbed, mouth a-gape, to her cot. We talk on the sofa or watch an episode of something invariously involving Mel and Sue or house purchasing of some sort. We quietly climb into bed next to her, and admire her softly sleeping by the light of our phones.
It's typical, kind of boring. But it's beautiful and we are so blessed and I want to capture it. I want to remember.