Adam is now over 5 months old and continues to amuse and entertain us on a regular basis. Since I last posted, he's grown considerably (over 18 pounds), adjusted to a daycare routine, learned to roll, learned to sit unattended, learned to grasp objects (including my hair and hoop earrings), and learned that bedtime is 7:30 rather than 11:30. He still doesn't sleep through the night, but that's mostly my fault for not being more vigilant about enforcing the rules. He has a very good-natured personality and is typically either smiling or laughing, and he's as cute as a button. (I might be biased, but total strangers have stopped me to tell me how cute he is, so I can't be totally wrong, can I?) He loves it when people talk to him, whether it's the 17-year-old cashier at SuperAmerica or the 60-year-old mechanic at Saturn (he's not picky). He also loves it when we sing to him (even off-key). He's not afraid of new people and has yet to cry when I've handed him over to an unfamiliar person. Maybe that whole stranger anxiety thing will elude him?
I enjoy being back at work, as much as that makes me sound like a Terrible Mother Who Doesn't Love Her Son. The overwhelming majority of new moms must dread returning to the working world, based on the comments I received upon my return, "How ARE you? Was it just tearing you up inside to drop him off at daycare? Are you sure you're doing OK?" Don't get me wrong, I missed the little guy, but it was also a relief returning to the Land of Adult Conversations, and it felt good returning to a schedule I knew and liked: deadlines and meetings and word counts and lunches with friends and colleagues and interviews with clients and writing stories - things I know I'm good at, things that give me a sense of accomplishment - rather than a schedule consisting of breastfeeding, naps, cooking, cleaning, and trying to fill the time with mostly productive activities (I confess, we did watch "What Not to Wear" and "Oprah" on a regular basis) When Aaron returned home from work at 6 p.m. it felt like the heavens opened. Part of the problem is that I don't do well with excessive amounts of "alone" time; part of the problem is that I felt like I always had to entertain Wee One; part of the problem was that I felt guilty ever setting him down. I even brought him into the bathroom with me.
I have girlfriends who love being stay-at-home moms, and I have nothing but utmost respect for them (it's the hardest job I've ever had), but it's not my gig. Maybe someday I'll have the luxury of working part-time. Until then, I'll try to make the best of the arrangement. Until then, I'll look into those big blue eyes, pinch those chubby cheeks, and kiss those sweet little lips and wonder how such a beautiful, perfect specimen is ours. This past year I fell deeper in love with Aaron (he's an amazing hands-on daddy) and head over heels with a little boy named Adam. I am truly blessed.
