There was a time when I probably wouldn’t have considered going away with a baby by myself to be a vacation. The baby has been sleeping next to me all night – usually with my boob within close proximity to her mouth, lest she wake up to discover it missing and have a mini freak-out. She’s been in my arms pretty much all day long, napping on me, walking around strapped in a carrier. She’s on the floor for only short periods to look around and prefers to spend that time to stare at me and talk to me. The only time I have bathed is with her.

And yet this has been a lovely relaxing vacation for me. All of the above feels like a piece of cake. She’s only mildly fussy sometimes, but otherwise she is happy and quiet – babies are so much quieter than toddlers. I rarely have to get up, almost everything she needs of me I can accomplish within 3 feet of the couch.

It has actually been a lovely change to have her nap on me – sometimes I can shift her up onto my chest for nap time snuggles. (The only problem then is that I can’t help but kiss her head, which makes me grumble in her sleep.) We have been spending so much time together without interruption from a noisy, demanding toddler. (I love my toddler tons, but she is still noisy and demanding.) My free time is spent making faces at the baby instead of running off to make dinner or clean up a mess. I get to hold a sleeping baby while reading on my phone without fending off little hands.

So, yes, lovely. I miss Kate and I’m looking forward to seeing her but I’m still sad for this vacation to be over soon. I think it’s one of those cases where I didn’t know how much I needed a break until I got one.