Day two... um what was I going to say again?

I have a couple post ideas floating around in my brain, but I'm afraid if I use them now, what will I do around day 22 when I'll be scraping the bottom of the brain barrel? I really hope I'm not quite there yet. I totally feel for people who actually have to do this for a living. Chris was just reading a biography of Mike Royko, a local columnist who died a few years ago. He was my mother's favorite, and my mother-in-law's too. He would get totally stressed out about trying to come up with an interesting column every day. Obviously there is no where near that much pressure on me, but still.
It seems like my days at home are not all that interesting, at least maybe not to the outside world. And I'm a little timid about baring my mommy-blog soul. But I came to the dance, so let's dance...
Today Domi and I had a very typical "mommy day off" day. We got up, had breakfast, took a nap, had lunch, went to the park, went to thes store, had lunch, took another nap, played inside, had dinner, Chris came home, we put Domi to bed. It's easy to get caught up in just getting through the typical day, and before you know it, it's bedtime, and what the heck did we do all day? But today for what ever reason, as I was putting Domingo to sleep for his second nap, which he was fighting a little, I just closed my eyes and breathed in his little baby smell, and even as I exhaled and inhaled again, it seemed more like a boy than a baby. I thought back to all the hundreds of naps I have put him down for, how it's some times a battle, some times a snap, and how before long, he won't need me let alone want me to hold him and rock him and hum him to sleep. As his heavy little head went from defiantly upright and squawking, to mumbly and nodding, then silent and lightly resting on my cheek, I had a moment. One of those moments that you read about, like what the baby wash ads would have you believe parenting is like. I had one of those moments of speechless awe of how much you love your child, of how fleeting and precious these moments are, and of how incredibly lucky you are to be part of his little life. His warm heavy body snuggled up in my arms, his soft little breath whishing rhythmically, his chubby little arms slung around my neck, I was hypnotized with a sense of well-being and felt like there must have been a golden aura surrounding us both, a still point in the turning world. After an hour he was up and running (crawling) again, he was pointing and talking and singing and laughing again. The spell was broken and I was back to chasing him around grabbing him back from the brink of disaster, pulling ink pens out of his mouth (point side in), and cringing in terror at the stink of his man-size (and grown up smelling) poopies. But even if the movie moments are few and far between, I'll take the typical day any time. Today was a really good day.