All Before 12:46 p.m.

I remember we have a play date today. At our house.

I pack the bags to go back to the library. They are overdue.

I do not shower. I did that yesterday.

We need to go grocery shopping.

I pack the bags to go to the library and the reusable grocery bags because I am a green mom.

We load up the car with the library books and the diaper bag and the reusable grocery bags.

I talk to the Jehovah’s Witnesses about places I have never been in Michigan.

On our way to the library, we get detoured.

Do I have the library books?

I pull over. I forgot the library books. Gah.

We go back home. Wave to the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

I go back inside, leaving Baby Girl in car in the driveway, hoping the Witnesses do not judge me.

The library books are nowhere in sight.

Probably because they are already in the car, where I packed them the first time.

We go grocery shopping.

Baby Girl tries to do dismount out of cart 135,308,304,358,723.03 times.

Get business call from National Beer Wholesalers Association. Long story.

We drive past library.

We get home. It is sprinkling.

Carry 3 heavy bags of groceries and 20 lb. 8 month-old in rain into house.

Unpack groceries.

Walk into bathroom, wonder if am mom that wears make-up to playdates in own home.

Decide am not.

Start making beautiful sandwiches.

Walk back into bathroom to spot clean floor with Kleenex.

See Baby Girl crawl for first time.

Decide am mom that wears mascara to playdates in own home.

Feel like crying a little for no reason at all.

Have enjoyable playdate. Eat sandwiches. Am glad put on mascara.

Take back books to library. All end up on desk of wrong branch.

Will pay late fees later. Much later.


My friend Elisa got back from Korea and gave me at least six of the warmest hugs ever. She also sent me these photos she took (is photog student) which were like hugs in my inbox.

This photo captures perfectly the glow of my daughter.

This photo captures perfectly the humor Elisa brings to my life.

This photo captures perfectly the feeling I have when holding Baby Girl at any any time of day or sleepless zombie hour of night.

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Upside of the job

My little girl has been off for a couple of weeks, both off her schedule and just a few notches off from her usual temperament. She’s been teething, and those two bottom teef cuttin fru must be mating under those gums because why else would they be taking the March of the Penguins by way of Antarctica to get here?!?

Naptimes and bedtimes have been one long negotiation. The Parent Gallery chimes in —

Give her some Benadryl!
What about shark teeth balm?
Did you promise her an Audi if she takes a nap?
Try shooting her out of a cannon! Works every time!
But I know my kid. This is just going to be a process. The one advantage is that her daddy and I get to rock her. Sometimes for at least three rounds of “The sun’ll come out to-mor-row…”. But I don’t mind. I get to hold that warm blubber across my stomach, get to see those wispy little eyelashes shutter slower and slower with every rock, get to buy just a few more moments time of Having a Baby versus Having a Daughter Who Resists Being Held.

It is upside of the job, like being picked to go clap erasers with Tony DeLorenzo whom you’ve had a crush on for three trillion years, Oooh, too bad, I have to go outside and stand alone and giggle in a fog of chalkdust with Tony DeLorenzo while the rest of the class has to copy down spelling words. I’m sorry, Tony, for pulling the remaining eraser out of the door jam that was holding it open so that we got locked out of school that day. I was just trying to buy some more time….


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Back to School

I inspect my outfit before I leave and it has not been milk-bombed and there are no tapers on my shorts and I am set. No traces of mom on me. I am vowing to myself that I will not tokenize myself in class tonight as That Mom Student. It’s the first night of classes and I just don’t want to show my mom card yet. I park the car in my usual spot, a mile away, and think how grateful I am that I am walking this mile as a non-pregnant person. It is good to be on the Cambridge side of life again. I hold the lock remote up to the car as I walk away and I see the car seat in the back seat….

We do introductions in class after the megalomaniac professor rattles off a laundry list of published works and Pulitzers. Woohoo. Everyone begins by saying, “This is my third/fifth/first class in the master’s program.” It is taking all of my power not to mention that I am back after a semester off when I was busy having a baby and falling madly in love with my new daughter.

The megalomaniac reads two of his own pieces. Of course the second piece is about a woman who dies in childbirth.

I speak with two friendly students on our way out of class.  “You are almost done with your master’s?” the PhD in History asks.

Yes, I tell her, and I cannot wait to be done.

She looks at me quizzically, like what could be more fun than school?

I reveal I have a seven month-old at home and that I just want to get back to focusing on one thing.

But I know that is a lie, or if not an outright lie, than I am simply deceiving myself.  Because life will never be so tidy that we can all focus on one thing.  And I should not pretend that I can.

I get to feed her before I go to sleep.  That warm snuggley body with the kissable cheeks.  Best thing I have done all day.

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