Defeat can sometimes be very sweet

We've been battling it out for an hour now. Her incessant writhing is making my arms hurt and my pleas for her to go to sleep are ignored. I give up. Does she know that she has won this one?

I stand up. My nursing tank is damp because the pee has leaked through the homemade cloth diaper. It is too thin. I didn't make it out of the right material, even though I thought it was going to be perfect. All the money spent and time invested have been wasted. Another thing to add to the list of what I thought I had figured out before she was born only to be shown how little I know now that she is here. Maybe I can selvage and repurpose the material. I know I've lost this one.

I haven't bothered to change my shirt yet. Still trying to gain some composure from the battle. Pee is sterile, isn't it?

The sun is shining on our covered porch and I think we'll go there. It's time for her to have supper. Potato, sweet potato and peaches. She can't get enough peaches. We both feel better now. She is talking constantly, telling me all that she has to say. Her smiles stretch for miles. The blue of her eyes are sparkling and I think I can see the depths of the ocean in them.

One day down the road she is going to fake sleep all in the attempt to avoid spending time with me. What is one little, late afternoon nap missed? For now, I'll drink these moments in. Now I win.