He knows - daggonit

Well, my son has figured it out.  Mommy leaves each morning.  As of yesterday, my heart is again ripping from my chest as I leave him in the mornings because now he knows.  He just looked at me with a face that screamed, "Where are you going, Mommy?"  He was no screaming; he was perfectly happy and started playing the moment I stopped blowing him kisses through the window as I backed up slowly toward my car.  Inside, I was screaming, though. 

The HUGE positive about this newfound knowledge my son has?  I am pretty sure he also knows I will come back.  He was very happy to see me yesterday afternoon and as always, he is my brightly defined finish line for today.  I cannot wait to kiss those cheeks and have those little arms wrap around my neck.  I just have to relive all of the pain and remind myself that he is happy during the day and that is what matters.  My guilt is of my own doing.

Oh, and I also have to hope that when separation anxiety begins, it is not too bad.  For anyone involved.  It would suck if he screams when I leave in the morning, but it would be even worse (for me) if he screams when I pick him up to take him home in the afternoon.  Time will tell.  And so will this blog if I get back to writing frequently.

Say, white looks great with that outfit

No, Jackson Pollack did not contribute to the design of my suit.  Yes, white does go with everything.  Oh, spit up, how I love thee. 

My son is pretty good - he usually manages to miss my suits completely when he spits up.  When he hits me, I can hand him off to my husband while I sponge down and dry off.  Yesterday morning, however, I was not so lucky.  He hit me and I did not see it.  I did not see it, that is, until I got into work, took off my coat, sat at my desk and saw the dried white spotch on the sleeve of my suit jacket.  Oops.

My husband had a great statement the other day.  My dear son drolled on his suit jacket and he said, "That's okay.  At least it dries clear."  Oh so true.  The white stuff is a bit harder to explain.  At least most people at work know I am a new mom.  Nobody asked and I didn't tell.  I just hope nobody wondered.

Thanks, George & Honest Abe

Ah.  The federal holiday.  It used to mean ignoring daylight for some extra slumber and a few hours of leisurely shopping a good sale.  For Presidents' day 2010, however, it meant awaking at 6:00 a.m. for a day filled with someone else's naps and tears.  The wonderful this is that the naps and tears were separated by laughter and exploration.  The even more wonderful things is that all of those experiences were my son's.  And I was there to witness it all for three full days in a row.  Thanks, George and Abe.

(Isn't it weird that we call Lincoln "Honest Abe" when it was Washington who "Could not tell a lie?")

Back from Maternity Leave, Take 2

God, Ma Nature, and global warming conspired to give me 5 - count them FIVE - snow days.  Each snow day meant a day home with my wonderful little man.  Today, the Virginia Department of Transportation conspired with the work devil to bring me back to the office.

I am not saying that dropping my son off with Marie was as difficult as it was one day one or two, but I sure was getting used to being home with him during the days.  Two things on this subject.

1)  It is so much easier and sooo much more fun to stay home with a four month old than it is to stay home with a three month old.  Ridiculously more enjoyable.  He plays now.  He enjoys time alone now.  He sleeps (sometimes) now.  I can tell what he needs based on the time of day and his type of vocalization now.  The vocals aren't even all cries anymore.

2)  I am definitely not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom.  Now, I recognize that such a statement is probably unfair based on the last seven days (a weekend was in between day one and day two of snow days off) because I was stuck inside and cabin fever was rampant throughout my house.  I know, however, that I was a little ancy to get back to work and contribute something to the world for the day.  Plus, I have to admit, there really is something wonderful about working toward the goal of seeing my son's adorable face at the end of the workday.  Brings a whole new meaning to quittin' time.

Away on travel

It has been a long while since I last wrote, mostly because I have been preparing to travel for work.  It is the first time I am having to be away from my little man and I do not like it.  Not one bit.

I have never liked to be away from my husband.  I look forward to curling up with him at night from the second we climb out of bed in the morning.  I love our talks at the dinner table and I live for his hugs, kisses, and smiles.  When I can make him laugh my world opens wider.  Add to that the distance from my son and, well, I am feeling pretty sad.

I am in a great city and have a really exciting day ahead of me tomorrow.  I am meeting a college friend for what should be a good dinner (on the company's dime).  I am in one heckuva luxurious hotel room.  These are great things.  BUT, the coolest city, the most exciting day, a tasty mean, and a comfy bed (and huge bathtub) do not make up for the comfort my family provides.

I won't stay away so long from now on.  The biggest positive to all of this is that I know I won't have to travel again for a good long while.  The job just does not require it.

Laughter is the best medicine

I have already proven that I can laugh at myself.  Now I just have to laugh through the aching I have to hear my son's beautiful laugh.  He has been making noises along with his smiles for quite a while, but he had an all out laughing session on Sunday night and it was the most wonderful sound I have ever heard.  I lose my breath every time I think of it. 

Now I sit at work wondering if he is laughing and wanting so much to hear it.  For the first time, I feel the inevitable mommy conflict of wanting him to grow up and start talking so we can chat during the workdays and wanting him to stay tiny forever so that things like his laughter are enough to fill me completely and get me through the day.  Today, I am working toward quitting time quickly and furiously... just in hopes of hearing that joyful noise.

Skirt + Mommyhood = Flash neighborhood

Rush hour with an infant in the backseat is a b***h.  A pacifier is one of the many tools a working mommy must employ to make it through with some pigment left in her hair. 

On Friday, my son decided not just to release the pacifier from his mouth, but to spit it out.  By spit it out, I mean SPIT IT OUT.  It flew out of the car seat and into the impossible crack between the seat and the door.  When the screaming commenced, I did what any rational mother (who had not yet gotten onto the Interstate) would do.  I pulled over in the neighborhood and dove in.  Of course, it would have been easiest to open the door next to DS and get the pacifier that way, but the danger of it falling to the ground existed and I did not have an extra in tow.  So, dive I did.

Picture it:  Woman in skirt laying across the backseat of her SUVs, pawing around for a lost pacifier.  Lower half of body "securely" across seat; upper half of body down and around the car seat, arm reaching over to get hand between seat and door.  It was just out of my reach, so I reached a little farther, pulling my upper body a little more off of the seat.  BAM.  Yup, I fell onto the floor of the car.  On my side.  And I could.  Not.  Get.  Up.  I was stuck underneath the car seat.  I am flailing at this point.  I had the pacifier in my hand, but I was flailing.  In my skirt.  Flashing anyone who drove or walked by and a whole line of townhouses in the neighborhood.  My son was screaming for that delicious piece of silicone in my hand and I am stuck on the floor of my car.  SERIOUSLY? 

I was laughing.  Hard.  What else can you do in that situation?  So, I did a full out flash to get myself out of my temporary trap and managed to get out of the back and dust myself off.  I grabbed a water bottle from the front, rinsed off my son's pacifier, calmly placed it into his mouth and then chugged the rest of the water.  All of that squirming made me thirsty!

skirt + mommyhood = all out hilarity.  I am still laughing about this as I type it and am sure this will be a story I will repeat at my son's high school graduation party.