Monday, 29. August 2011
Today I took you to daycare for a trial run before you start full time next week.
I would be lying to you if I didn’t say that last week I was counting the days until today. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had a great summer, but I was looking forward to having one day all by myself.
Then I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach. Everything we’ve done for the past 2 months (including your epic meltdowns over … well, I’m not even sure sometimes what you’re crying about to be honest) whether hard or fun, we’ve done together. Some days you are in a better mood than other days, but just having you there while I’m cooking dinner or taking a nap or sneaking onto Facebook before you realize I have turned my attention away, has become a part of my life.
I’ve learned to live my life with you in it. I’ve learned how to do almost everything one-handed. I’ve learned to eat cereal and drink coffee in under 2 minutes. I’ve learned every street around Brentwood as you really, really like taking walks. I’ve learned that you prefer to take walks in the Bjorn so you can be close to someone and see everything there is to see. I have learned that we’ve got exactly 50 minutes in the stroller before you get really pissed. I’ve learned that sometimes when you cry really hard it’s because mommy forgot to burp you and you need to let out a man-sized belch. I’ve learned that you will nap for exactly 30 minutes 4 times a day, and not a minute longer. Therefore I know exactly what I can get done in 30 minutes or less, and Rachel Ray should watch her back because I am thinking of pitching a show about how many things a person can accomplish in 30 minutes or less. And it doesn’t involve EVOO for fucks sake (EAR MUFFS, sweetie).
I’ve learned that no matter how frustrated I get at times, one smile from you can make everything easier. You have the ability to take away all my worries and guilt that I might be doing something wrong.
When I dropped you off today, you started to cry a little and then Noushin (Nou-Nou as the other kids call her) took you and you just gazed at her with big eyes. She has that baby-whisperer thing, I think. Because I’ve never seen you have that look except with me or daddy (and that’s only on a good day). I think you are in good hands.
But I am counting the minutes until you come home and we do bath time and you scream your face off when I take you out of the water to dress you. I never thought I’d look forward to that part of my day.
I miss you, buddy.