So I started working again.
Working Mom is not as fun as Not Working Mom.
It seems as though I am always missing something. Or rushing somewhere. I am in constant the-baby-ate-three-hours-ago-and-he-is-going-to-be-hungry-in-exactly-4-minutes-so-I-have-to-get-there-FAST! mode.
Not that I am complaining. Well, I guess I am, but I know it could be much worse. I have a very supportive network of family and friends around me that have made this transition much easier. But it is still hard to always remember to make sure there are diapers in the diaper bag and a container of frozen vegetable cubes that I hope will defrost by lunchtime.
Also, nobody prepares you for the multitude of annoyances that pumping brings. One day, there is so much milk, it is squirting against the walls. The next day, dry as a husk! And how many times can that stuff be re-heated anyways!?
Now that summer has started, my dear husband is at home playing Mr. Mom. So far, so good. He even made cookies tonight. But it still doesn't make it any easier that the three boys left for the park this morning, just as I was leaving for work. Or that my stepson attached himself to my leg and threw himself in front of the door chanting, "don't go! don't go!", while baby boy just stared at me with his big brown eyes. Believe me, I wish I didn't have to.
All in all, my little bundle is growing up to be so much fun. And although I absolutely hate being away from him for even a second, I know he will always be there to greet me with a big smile, and a wet, gummy face slobber when I come home.