Some days are just good. You can’t deny their goodness. Every single moment is enjoyable. You feel at peace with yourself and everyone around you. Everything that occurs just adds to your sense of wonder in the world and you feel absolutely, unequivocally happy.

I had one of those days yesterday.

Keep in mind that I’ve been in pure stress mode since October. I’ve been working nearly non-stop. Now, that’s great news for my freelance business. However, it’s terrible news for my ability to relax. What’s worse, is one of the reasons I started freelancing was to allow myself the ability to be more available for parenting duties. But since October, a sick child or lack of a sitter sent me into convulsions of stress.

It’s been so bad at times that I’ve had nightmares where I see people who owe me material sitting around a pool, taking naps while I sip a champagne glass filled with my own stomach acid. However, to my credit, I’ve been handling the stress far better than I have in the past. When the statute of limitations runs out, I’ll explain what I’ve done in the past.

But yesterday. Yesterday was wonderful. My sitter was unable to watch the baby and I spent the entire day with her. Alone. Both of us healthy. It was fantastic.

We spent the morning watching The Wiggles. We danced and sang and wiggled till we could wiggle no more. After The Wiggles were over, we played Wiggles related games on the computer. She’d hear a snippet of one of their songs and she’d squeal with glee, shouting, “Mo’! Mo’! Mo’!” her finger pounding into her open palm, the sign for “more.”

We then went downstairs and I introduced her to the play kitchen and play food. She ate it up! We spent a full hour making donut-strawberry-potato-ice cream-brownie-chicken-stew and feeding it to her baby. She’d stand at the plastic stove, stirring her concoction. If you asked her about it, she’d put out her hand out in a cautionary gesture and say, “Ha! Ha!” This is the sign for “hot.” I was astounded at her ability to pick this up.

Later that morning we went to Target and picked up a new doll. She managed to find the only doll that seemed to be wearing the same outfit as her. Walking out of the store she smothered her new baby in kisses, with loud “Mwahs”. To say that she was the cutest damn being in the store is an understatement.

I was worried about naptime. She’s never been one who enjoyed being put down for a nap without a fight. Normally I have to chase her down with a blowgun and a tranquilizer dart. Or, I just wait until she keels over from exhaustion.

But yesterday after lunch, we sat in her rocking chair for a while, cuddling. After a few minutes I asked her, “Are you ready for your nap?” She hopped down from my lap, walked over to the crib and waited. I put her in and she handed me her cup of milk and gave me a hug. I told her I loved her and gave her a big kiss.

“Sweet,” I thought. “This is going to be a breeze!”

I started to walk out of the room and she let out a mournful wail so loud and piercing that a pod of humpback whales were set off course in the Pacific and accidentally beached themselves. She fell to her knees and looked at me pleadingly. I have to admit, we had such a fantastic morning that I wanted to scoop her up and head back out the door to play some more. But I steeled myself and left. I sat on my bed for ten minutes while she cried. And then . . . nothing.

Positive that she had somehow choked to death on her own, lonely, mournful tears, I went to check on her. There she was, sound asleep. Face down, with her little diapered butt sticking straight up in the air.

It’s strange, but it’s moments like that when you’re filled with this amazing love that washes over you.

When she woke up, we cuddled for a little bit until she saw the cat. She then picked hair out of the cat’s tail until the cat kindly asked her to stop.

We just had a wonderful, relaxing day. I was constantly amazed at how smart she’s getting. Her vocabulary seemed to increase three-fold yesterday (up to nine words now). At any given moment I would look at her sweet, cherubic (albeit slightly mischievous) face and feel an overwhelming desire to shout, “Damn it I love you you little weasel!”

Later in the evening the family did our evening Yoga ritual (which we’ve done three times now . . . three times I’ve done very poorly at). Gertrude would roll around on the floor with the rest of us; trying to mimic the poses we would contort ourselves into. To be honest, she did much better at it than I did.

And then it was bedtime. She gave me a hug and a great big “Mwah!” and was off to bed. Our perfect day seemingly over.

Until 11:30. When she woke up and was calling “Mama! Mama!” Normally she falls right back asleep. But tonight she was really upset about something. Mom said, “She’ll go back to sleep. Don’t worry.”

Then little Gertrude cheated. She broke the patterns, broke the rules and just plain damn got her way. In her litany of cries for “mama” she threw in one “Daadee!” She was in my arms in less than a second. I think I broke a land speed record in getting there. There was a sonic boom from the gap in the air I created when I bolted out of bed to get her.

And I gave her one last hug for the day. Knowing full well that she will never remember what a great day it was. How happy she made me during every moment. That I was filled with pride each and every second because this little, amazing being is MY daughter. Mine! How did I do that?

If someone asked me today, “What was the best day of your life” I would respond:

It was a Monday. Definitely a Monday.

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