Props to you if you sang the title of this blog post.  Mad props to you, 90’s child…

I’m back at work.  Day 3.  Numerous emails and voice mails done and accounted for.  Numerous head smacks on the desk as I tried to remember my logins and passwords to various networks and work sites.  Numerous times I had to go sit in an unfinished office in our work building with no electricity or heat and pump breastmilk as if it’s a totally normal thing to do in the middle of a workday.  In a silk blouse and suit pants.  Totes normal, you guys.

TMI?  Don’t mind if I do!


I might have failed to mention in my last couple posts that I actually got a promotion while on maternity leave.  Seriously, who goes and pops out a baby and then gets a raise?  Me.  That’s who.  Yeah buddy.

I will no longer be the Circulation Manager of the magazine.  Oh no.  No more exciting Excel documents and audits.  No more irate older customers who were offended by the lingerie ad on page 5 so they’re calling to cancel their subscription and “by the way, have you found God, young lady?”  No more of it!  Imagine me, “Office Space”-style, out in a field with a baseball bat.  We’re moving on up!

I will now be in charge of the promotions.  Which is…pretty cool.  It’ll be a challenge for me, but one that I’m welcoming with open arms because I’ll get to use more of my creativity.  And writing skills.  Not the snarky writing skills, though.  One day I’ll put those to use besides this blog, no worries.

I’m glad to be back at work and interacting with real live adults, but I also miss my little pickle during the day and find myself extra tired every night after a long day of work.  It doesn’t help that we’re still not on a sleep schedule and my nights consistently revolve around an 11 o’clock feeding, a 3 o’clock feeding and a 5 o’clock feeding.  And, oh hey, Mom, make sure you’re awake at 7 o’clock, too, because that’s when I’ve decided I’d like to wake up for the day and have a diaper leak in your bed.  Love, Fox.

It WILL get easier, I know this.  I keep reminding myself that he will sleep through the night when he’s 16.  So I have that to look forward to.  Unless he has that wild streak like  his father and I and constantly tries to sneak out of the house.  Good thing we have squeaky wood floors.

There’s really not much else new to report so let me throw a few pictures your way.  Please do not eat my delicious-looking child, though.

The Before Photo:

Oh hey, Mom and Dad, you guys takin’ pictures?

Aaaaand, The After:

Well let me just pose for you real quick here…vvvvlurp…


Dear Fox,

Today is my last day of maternity leave and as I’m sitting here typing this, you’re on the floor playing under your play-gym toy with all the fun dangley things for you to grab at.  And you keep coo-ing really loud and batting at the orange monkey because he’s your favorite.  Sometimes I think you two hold some pretty intense conversations.  You both are over there talking about the state of the economy and then my big head butts in and says “Poop?  Did you poop, my little punkin?  Ooooh, yes, yes, yes, mumma’s little baby pooped.”

No wonder you look at me like, “Woman!  Stop talking about my bodily functions in front of my new monkey friend, here.  Isn’t it bad enough you gave me the name Fox?  I’m already going to get beat up on the playground, I don’t need extra help from you.”

As you can see, this maternity leave might have given me a little too much time on my hands, as I’m now making up entire imaginary conversations with my 2-month-old in my head.

What was I saying?

Oh right.  Last day.

And while I tend to take the humorous approach to most things in my life on this blog, today I’m not feeling so lighthearted.  As evident by my far-from-comical introduction above.  I mean, really.  Poop humor?  It’s totally not even funny.

Nope.  Today I feel this sick pit in my stomach.  Like sadness.  And worry.

Sadness because this has been the most incredible two months.  They’ve been challenging, as living with most newborns can be.  But they’ve  been so full of joyous moments, it makes me tear up when I write about it.  I was the first to hold you in my arms and feel you curl up on my chest.  How strange to feel you on the outside instead of the inside after 9 months.  I witnessed your first smile.  I watched your thought process as you learned (and are still learning) to reach for things.  I laughed with the doctor when you rolled over on the exam table and started flirting with the nurse.  I’ve even watched your daddy fall madly, deeply in love with you.

And starting tomorrow I won’t get to be a part of that for 8 hours each day.

And here’s where the worry (albeit irrational) sets in.  What if you don’t get the same attention every day?  What if you’re stuck in your swing for hours and everyone just keeps popping a Nuk back in your mouth when you cry?  What if you forget who your mom is?

Holy irrational Toledo, yeah?

I know you will be well-loved and well-cared for when I’m not around during the day.  But is it wrong that I wish it could be me continuing the love and caring for?  Is it wrong that I don’t look forward to going back to the daily grind of a 40 hour work week?

I know things might have an extra level of difficulty as we struggle to work out a schedule from here.  There might be later evenings and earlier mornings.  But.  I’m so thankful for the time I was able to spend with you every day during leave.  On days when I didn’t think I could pull myself out of sleep after a particularly rough night, I’d look over at you sharing our bed and you’d give me that signature Fox smile and I’d bust out laughing.  You’ve been a little light in our lives.

I’m going to miss you during the day, Bud, but it will make it so much sweeter at 4 o’clock when I’ll look forward to returning home to you.


Your Mom




So get this.

I come to post Fox’s 2 month photos and realize what a terrible blogger I have been when I noticed the last post I made was his 1 month photo.

Bad blogger, blah blah blah, fill in random excuses here.

Listen.  I have a small child.  A wee, tiny human that on paper would seem fairly easy – eat, sleep, poo.  But in reality, those three things happen quite often throughout the day, so as I find myself finishing one, we’re on to the next.  I’m lucky if I finally sit down to breakfast at 1 in the afternoon.

Here’s Fox’s 2 month photos.  I couldn’t resist the Halloween theme, seeing as though he’ll be 2 months tomorrow, the 30th.  Just too close to the holiday to resist.

We had a ton of outtakes.

A ton.

Who would have thought a hungry, floppy-necked 2-month-old in an itchy wool cap, propped next to an insanely cold pumpkin would be such a crabass about the whole thing?  But ours was.

Listen kid – if you’re serious about this 5 year plan that involves becoming the Gerber baby and making your parents millions, you’ll have to buck up just a little.  That IS your 5 year plan, yeah Fox?

Anyway, here’s a peek at some of the outtakes along with Baby Fox’s very own commentary.

(And another reason for me to post some delicious pictures of those baby thigh rolls.  Are any of you ever worried you will actually eat your own child because he’s so cute?  I am.)

Baby Fox says, “Get me a chair for some back support, you jerky, first-time parents!”

Baby Fox says, “Don’t get all crazy and excited about that smile.  That was just some serious gas.”

Mom says “Fox is right.  This photography sesh was peppered with lots of gas leaks.”

Baby Fox says, “Way to push the photography limits by switching which side the pumpkin is on, Mom and Dad.  In exchange for your genius, I will now act disinterested in the pumpkin from this point forward.”

Baby Fox says, “A baby can only take so much paparazzi.  I get it.  You people need 25 photos of the same pose for the baby album.  But the longer you make me wait, the more I will take out my angry hunger on your boobs later, Mom.  Just so we’re clear.”

 Baby Fox says, “Is this the last picture?  Yeah?  No?  Did you hear what I said about your boobs earlier, Mom?”

This is the look of a baby who has given up.  Fox decided he had no comment on this one.

So there you have it.  I distracted you with some photos to ease the pain of a month without update.  Maternity leave is over for me in a week and a half, and if you think I had little time to update now, I’ll make no promises for the month ahead.  But I will try my darndest.  Because I can’t deny you all juicy baby thighs.  I’ll try not to gobble them up before then.