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Went to Comic-Con today. This involved getting up at 5 am after getting to bed at 12 and to sleep at 1. Also, as we left J with my family for the day, there was a lot of use of my Swing pump, which is pretty good, but not anything I could rely on for long-term heavy use. I don't think there's a pump out there that I could rely on that way, just because of the way I'm built. Coupled with the lack of places at the con to actually use the pump, this made for a nice big snack for J when we finally staggered back in the door at midnight and let my poor aunt and mother go home. He stayed quietly in my lap for a long time, dozing, protesting when I'd move him and returning to suck some more. And he still didn't get it all.

Finally, his Mommy-I-missed-you snugglefit gave way to sleep. I hoisted him up onto my shoulder, which sometimes wakes him up. Tonight it didn't. He stayed there, sleeping, and almost relaxed into me. It was so unexpected, and felt so right, that it brought tears to my eyes. I've never been comfortable describing my feelings for J as "love;" it's a complicated mix of awesome responsibility and frequent frustration while thinking he's a phenomenal little human being, but it's nothing I've felt before and I feel like it should have a better name. Tonight I think I found a better word: not the best, but a step along the way. Home.

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