It took forever to get Westley to go to sleep last night. Rob gave him a bottle, and then I rocked him in the living room and sang whatever songs popped into my head while Rob folded laundry silently in the bedroom. Then, when nothing I did could soothe Westley, Rob rocked him silently in the nursery while I quietly wrote in the living room. We had about a half an hour together before we felt the pressure to go to bed, which we spent in near silence.
I was reminded of the set-up we endured for several evenings almost exactly three years ago, when the younger of our two cats was a brand new kitten. We were living in a much larger house, with a floor plan that made it possible to close off one half of the ground floor from the other half. Rob would sit in the living room with the older cat, while I sat in the bathroom with the needy kitten and sang whatever songs popped into my head. Occasionally, we'd talk to each other through the closed hall door.
It feels strange--and kind of sad--to spend so much time soothing our little creatures that we barely see or talk to each other.