It is a Saturday. Drinking a mug of Perfect Night tea, made up of organic chamomile, rose, lavender and pink peppercorns, hoping it will grant me the sort of restorative sleep I so often need these days.
Baby is sleeping and I've just managed a soak in the tub while turning the pages of a book in dim light.
I smell like Burt's Bees baby lotion, not because of baby, but because I've slathered it on myself. I've always loved the heavenly scent of baby things - dreft and talcum powder and baby oil - but never allowed myself to indulge in them until now, when it reminds me of what I'm so blessed to have, instead of what I was afraid I never would.
It is not a perfect night, but it's close.