Like I Never Left

Well, Internet, it’s almost 3pm and I haven’t burst into tears or sprinted home in a baby-less panic, so I think I can call my first day back at work a relative success. Pumping has been…weird, but it’s working, and that’s all I can ask for. Thanks to everyone who has offered support – I have a feeling this is going to be A LOT harder in 6 weeks when I’m coming in 5 days a week, and then even harder in August, when Sadie officially enters day care instead of being under her Daddy’s care all day.

That’s her Daddy, the man who emailed me this today:

Uncanny, no? In other news, MY HEART IS ACHING TO GET HOME AND KISS THOSE CHEEKS.

It’s Off To Work I Go

Well, tomorrow marks my official first day back at work. Which means today marks my official first day of being filled with crippling guilt and dread.

Slit his wrists in the office bathroom. Little known fact.

Poop-date

Because I can’t stop talking about poop, and because I am seemingly hell-bent on embarrassing my daughter on the Internet (and because the lovely Kristin inquired and I have been so remiss about reading her blog that I hope answering her burning question somehow makes up for it), I am writing to let you know the outcome of Oops-I-Crapped-My-Pants-Gate 2009. While I sat there fretting about getting a shower while my darling precious angel wallowed in poo, Sadie – true to form – jolted awake and began bitching up a storm. So she totally won that round, and her dear, long-suffering mama didn’t get a shower until THE CRACK OF 6PM.

Fortunately, the owner of these adorable toes is totally worth remaining filthy until the evening news goes off the air.

(Even when she kicks me in the boob.)

(And even when her flailing legs break free from my grip during diaper changes and she grinds her adorable heel into her adorable poop-filled diaper.)

(That situation is also known as “Daddy, come hold your precious angel while Mommy throws back a beer.”)

Cheers & Jeers: Week Six Edition

Howdy from Week Six! I hope you brought money for ice cream.

OMG, popsicle dresses are SO Week Five, Mom, GOD!

Sadie’s Birth Story: Part 3

(So, it is now Week Five, but I started this post in Week Four, so…hence the mention of Week Four. Carry on.)

Here we are in Week Four, in which the little pigeon is starting to notice some of her toys and is suffering through her mother’s new pastime of singing her show tunes.

We like “Pinball Wizard,” but are not sold on “Sixteen Going On Seventeen.”

Where Does The Time Go?

I’m working as hard as I can to get Part 3 written and posted, but lately my days are a blur of feedings, changings, naps (and a recent nap embargo), and trying to keep the house from looking (and smelling) like a bus station.

And then there was this afternoon’s diaper blow-out, and the emergency bath that followed.

But last night, Internet, LAST NIGHT I WENT TO TARGET. AND THE GROCERY STORE. BY MYSELF! And Brad stayed home with my little bundle of poo and tried bottle-feeding for the first time, which she mastered like the goddamn genius that she is. I may have shed a single tear in the car when I realized that the bottle renders me totally obsolete (apart from the breastmilk inside), but I quickly got over it as I stepped into the red bullseyed world of Target and spend a glorious hour wandering within.

(I also might have purchased two of THE CUTEST dresses for Sadie which she totally doesn’t need, but I’m taking her into work this Thursday and I am taking it upon myself to ensure that every single one of my coworkers hemorrhages over how cute she is.)

Also? The breastpump freaks me out. That is all.