I have a ridiculous amount of packing to do. I haven't gotten nearly as much done today as I had planned on having done by now. My baby girl just isn't having it, and I'm ok with that.
   She decided that since she is teething really bady right now, she is only going to fall asleep during the day on my lap in the computer chair listening to Bob Dylan while I rub her back. So while my sweet bear naps, I'm stuck here under her warm, squishy little self thinking about the eight million things I need to get done.
   I've learned that having a little one means, for me, letting go of rigid schedules and letting her take the lead. I'm grown, so reason and explanation works on me. If I have to wait, I can understand why and accept that. She's a baby; when she's forced to change or wait it's confusing, frustrating, and scary.
   So I will sit here and hold her close to me and whisper softly while she sleeps, "I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it. Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me..."

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