Why do they call it the babymoon? I’m so much happier now than I was when Laurel was first born. Those first three weeks or so were bad, bad, bad. There was lots of anger and sadness and pain and anxiety and anger and yelling and depression and frustration. That was not a happy time. I think the babymoon is now, when I’m getting a touch more sleep, my lady-baby is smiling and cooing and gurgling. She’s my boo-boo kitty, my kissyface, my lulu, my gooey girl. She’s my sweetest companion and I’m her biggest fan. Can’t say that I felt that way anytime before Thanksgiving.
Meanwhile, Harry continues to grow into a doting and devoted big brother. I’m so proud of him and how much he adores his baby sister. He gets more and more sophisticated every day, and it blows my mind. If only he’d eat something other than macaroni and cheese and chicken nuggets (do NOT call them chicken tenders!!!).
The holidays were low-key here. No travel, really, except to go visit my grandparent the weekend before Christmas. While there, we surprised Matt with a 40th birthday party complete with a Greenberg turkey and an ice cream cake. On Christmas day, we went out for dim sum with our friends S, C, and I, then went back to our house for another birthday cake for Matt (carrot cake from Upper Crust), wrapping things up with dinner at my folks’. It’s nice to start our own traditions after years of schlepping in honor of others’ traditions. If I never have to travel for a holiday again, it’ll be too soon.
Now it’s all about catching up on work I’ve not had the chance to do in the past two weeks because H has been out of school. He’s at the sitter’s tomorrow (with Laurel) and then goes back to preschool on Monday. I’m having serious, serious reservations about sending Laurel full-time to daycare in a couple of weeks. Suddenly I understand all those women who left the workforce to stay home with their babies. But if I want to meet my goal of having my dissertation defense-ready by December, I have to hand her over to a caregiver. But no one says I have to like it.
Oh, and have you heard Fleet Foxes? Get on it. You’re missing out.
I’m getting ridiculously excited about the James and Wharton seminar I’m taking in the spring.