Phase Two

This gig is crazy, yo. Before the baby came, I thought that being at home all day would give me ample time to perfect my still fledgling domesticity as well as accommodate to my new role as Mommy. Instead, I find myself doing everything twice as fast (hurry before the baby wakes up; hurry before his crying escalates to the next level), and the result is that I'm doing a lot of things halfway or half-assed and, no matter how I rush, everything takes me twice as long. Math, physics, logic--everything flies out the window. Still, we're having a hell of a lot of fun, and who cares about all that other stuff anyway?

Wombat is six weeks old now, and although we've adjusted to each other and are slowly falling into a schedule(!), there's still that pesky habit babies have of changing things up just as soon as you think you have them all figured out. Witness: Our miraculous barfless baby has recently started spitting up. Our peaceful and sleepy child has started fully waking up at 6 a.m. ready to grunt and play and throw out his arms with noisy joy into the nearest parental noggin (always mine; ow). The kid who hated baths loves baths. The wee chap who loved the Ergo HATES the Ergo. Our little lump of leaky human flesh and bone has turned into a tiny person, with a personality and everything, and it's sometimes hard to keep up. I started reading him books last week, not knowing if he was ready or not, but lo and behold he seems to have taken a liking to the black and white cow on page 2. That he's actually capable of liking something, of showing a preference, is blowing my mind.

It seems simplistic to measure a human life by artificial milestones like the clock or calendar, but I have to admit I felt a shift in perspective having achieved the mighty Six Weeks. This is the point at which most career women run out of maternity leave and have to return to work, so even though I have another six weeks, praise Jeebus, I still feel like it just might be time for me to sack up and get my act together. Adding to that feeling, last week I had my follow-up appointment with the OB-GYN, and when we started asking her what (and who!) I was okay to do, her answer was, "You're fine. You can do anything you want!" The bad news, of course, is that I can no longer cry out that my uterus hurts every time I want to get out of some awful task, but the good news is that I've healed quickly and well and can now officially consider myself among the normal once more. Well, as normal as any new mother can be, I guess, complete shift in perspective and lifestyle and all.

My new normal is good, though; I just need to keep getting used to it and keep making healthy and useful habits part of the routine. For instance, now that I can work out, I must remember to do it. Now that I can get in the hot tub, I must take full advantage (three nights running!). Now that I've used up the "disability" part of my maternity leave, it's time to use up the "bonding" portion doing worthy things that I'll look back on with fondness rather than regret. (I've now seen every episode of Jon and Kate Plus Eight...twice. That's not exactly something to brag about and not really the way I want Wombat to remember his childhood.)

But, goals aside, it's also a time to celebrate and give ourselves a hearty pat on the back. Six weeks is what people say you have to "survive" of infancy, and we've done it with smiles on our faces. Six weeks is also about the time most babies start smiling back, which I'm pleased to report wee Wombat has mastered with flying colors.

Six weeks survived and with smiles all around; just like that I have begun Phase Two of the rest of my life: make him smile. It sounds like both the easiest and hardest job in the world, but well worth the payoff.

wrote Leah at 6:37 AM | Comments (18)