Guest Blogger: Buisness Trip

Hello again Internets!  I’ve just returned from a short business trip to Seattle  and St. Laura the Tolerant was nice enough to surrender her blog to me again.  For anybody that’s never been on business travel, it sucks.  You’ve got to be on your best behavior the entire time and pretend that you would like nothing better than to go out to dinner with these near total strangers instead of sitting in the hotel room eating an overcooked room service hamburger and watching Shark Week.  Plus, I had to be away from my lovely wife and little boy for 3 whole days.

Apparently the first weekend in August is the ultimate family travel weekend.  Seattle airport was filled with little ones clinging sleepily to their parents (our flight was at 7:00 AM), and Atlanta was filled with even more little ones struggling crankily to get away from their parents (our flight was delayed 5 hours).  At one point a little girl about Max’s age had decided that none of this made sense, that we were all silly for putting up with it, and that she had had quite enough thankyouverymuch.  It’s funny how a screaming baby, once a major annoyance to me, now just makes me homesick.

I’ve always tried to take the advice Laura gets on her blog comments to heart.  The one consistent comment is to treasure every moment.  Max won’t be a baby forever.  I’ve never realized this more strongly than on the flight home.  There was a little boy of about 3 in the seat in front of me.  He had been delayed just as long as I had, but was being much more mature about it than me.  I couldn’t see him, but I heard all his questions about the “aiwpwane” and his parents’ patient answers.  A few minutes later he put his hand against the window where I could see it through the crack between the seat and the wall.  All I could think was that this little boys hand was enormous.  This little boy's hand was much too big to grasp at my fingers while I was feeding him a bottle.  This little boy's hand was strong enough to get him out of bed without his daddy's help.  This will be Max’s hand in a few short years.

When I finally got home I greeted Laura and headed upstairs to see my little man.  There he was, scooted into the corner of his crib with his hands clenched into tiny fists looking like the tiny baby he still is.  I look forward to teaching him about “aiwpwanes” and “twains” and all the other things little boys like, but for now I’m happy to get to know my baby, and I’m treasuring every moment.

Daddy's Day!

Please welcome guest blogger and husband extraordinaire Brett to The Things I Said I'd Never Do! This is the first of what I am sure will be many posts from St. Brett the Awesome giving his take on raising Max.  

Greetings Blogosphere!  I recently asked St. Laura the Tolerant (it might not seem like much of a nickname, but you should see the shit she tolerates from me) if I could do a guest post on her blog, and she was nice enough to say yes!  So get ready for lots of ramblings about Max from his Daddy’s perspective.

Thanks to our crazy work schedules Laura and I didn’t get to share a vacation day this 4th.  My vacation day was on Thursday, and hers was on Monday.  I’m going for my masters degree right now and Laura offered to take Max to daycare so I could work on my homework.  “Don’t be silly!” I said.  “I can take care of the little man!”  Around the 1:00 AM feeding before the big day it hit me.  I’ve never done this before!  Now I consider myself a pretty involved dad, and I like to think I’m the rule rather than the exception, but at that point I realized that I’ve never spent an entire day alone with my son.  I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling with eyes as big as Maxwell’s.

Now ladies, I have ENORMOUS respect for what moms go through, both in labor and taking care of little ones, and I’ve never met another dad that doesn’t agree.  Laura was an absolute champ during a very long labor, and even though she was recovering herself she gave everything she had to our brand new little boy.  It was a big change for both of us and I did everything I could to help her and to take care of Max, but two weeks later I was back to work and what amounted to a 10 hour vacation four days a week!  We’re a pretty modern family, but we very quickly fell into pretty traditional roles.  Laura keeps Max alive while I try to make some money and beat potential kidnappers to within an inch of their lives with a baseball bat (Seriously.  Guys think about this kind of thing a lot.  I even have a special hiding place set up for Laura and Max while I get my Ninja on).

By the time Laura came home that evening I’m happy to report that Max was alive and happy and other than a huge pile of soiled laundry the house was in pretty good order!  We even made it down to have lunch with Mommy and Max got his first trip to Radio Shack!  Apparently soldering irons are hilarious!  We had a great day, but it was EXHAUSTING!  To you stay at home moms out there, my hat’s off to you.  To you stay at home dads out there, way to go.  It’s a constant balancing act for us modern dads.  We’ve got to work hard to support our family, but we don’t want to miss our little ones’ babyhood.  To all those out there making it work, congratulations!  With the help of St. Laura the Tolerant I think we’re doing a pretty good job.

Surviving Day Care.

The first two days of Day Care have been surprisingly stress free. I'm probably shooting myself in the foot for saying so but it's true. A fair bit of organization has helped.  The night before I get all bottles, breast pumps, extra clothes and lunch packed and ready to go. I even make sure the coffee machine is ready, down to my travel mug under the spout so I just have to hit "brew". Brett gets Max ready and I get myself ready so we can be out the door at the unholy hour of 6:30AM.  Even the drive is mildly pleasant. Max usually screams on car rides but the past two mornings he's been asleep the whole time, allowing me to catch up on world events courtesy of NPR. (It's not quite the same without Carl Kasell).

(please pardon crummy iPhone picture)

Dropping Max off has also been easy. I feel like a bad mom because I didn’t cry.  So many friends talked about how they cried for hours  after dropping off their baby for the first time. Not me.  I think I was too exhausted to cry. We are still not making progress on the sleep issue. Max, however, wasn’t very happy I was leaving. He gave me the wet eyed frown this morning and actually buried his head my shoulder when his teach went to take him.  There was some guilt on my end, but it was more that he was crying and I wasn't.  I was feeling guilty for not feeling guilty.  Catholic much?

I'm really happy with the day care (or school, which is what I call it to make it sound better).  The teachers are wonderful and of all the times I've stopped by unannounced not once was there a screaming child. In just two days most of the teachers know Max, not just the ones in the infant room. Another plus is that I don't have to go all day without seeing him.  During lunch I just walk down the hall, out the door and across a small parking to give my Little Man some lunch.  There is even a little comfy room where I can nurse him. I'm sure my feelings about going back to work would be much more negative if I didn't have such an ideal situation. Plus, when I came to get him at the end of the day, he was all smiles!

While I know there are going to be bad days, I hope this is a sign of things to come. I've even learned one really important lesson in all of this.  If you are a working Mom who is able to nurse their child during the day....be sure to have an emergency change of clothes in your office. Massive milk stains (or worse) aren't professional.

First Day Recap

I made it!  It wasn't terrible but I can't say it was great. Max was up every 2 hours that night so I was pretty exhausted when 5:45AM rolled around. I made it out of the house on time and with some of my sanity intact and a cup of coffee down my gullet. I didn't even cry....until I swiped my badge and the reality sunk in.

When I sat down at my desk, I laughed when I saw my daily Dilbert calendar.

 Even funnier, the last day I worked was March 18.

Then I attacked my massive pile of emails.

And drank more coffee.

Then I pumped.

The picture updates from Saint Renee the Patient helped.

A surprise visit and care package from dear friend, Godmother of Max and baker extraordinaire, Alison also helped.

Inside were Twizzlers, Doritos, chocolate, stress balls, a card, voodoo doll and apples! She's amazing.

Then I pumped again.

Alison and I were able to meet our friend Rebecca who doing some clinical work for nursing school for lunch in the cafeteria . Hooray for friends!

The rest of the day was a blur of "welcome backs" and playing catch up. And more pumping. When 4PM rolled around, I dashed home ready for cuddles, kisses and a few dozen verses of "If You're Happy and You Know it".

Before I could blink it was bath time and bedtime.It came way to soon.

I survived.  I might just be able to do this after all.

"Every new begining comes from some other begining's end"

"How was my maternity leave?  It rocked.  It rocked my ass off"- Pam Halpert, "The Office". 

Today is my last day of maternity leave. After 12 of the simultaneously shortest and longest weeks of my life, I have to leave my little man and go back to work.

It wasn't an easy decision to return to work.  We're lucky. I could have quit and it wouldn't have even required major budget cuts. However, I just couldn't leave.  I have a really good job and great bosses.  Sure it's stressful, like any job.  Sure, there were days during my pregnancy where at the end the day I thought to myself "Screw this, I'm not going back!" but when push came to shove I didn't want to leave. I'm good at my job. Darn good.  I like my co-workers. I LOVE the organization I work for. I didn't want to quit. 

I didn't want to work full time either.  I wanted to take my son on outings.  Take Kindermusic classes.  Go on picnics.  Be able to actually have time to run errands and clean my house. Many, many years from now, greet him with fresh baked cookies when he gets home from school.  Just like my mom did for me and my siblings.  .

I think I ended up with the best of both worlds. My bosses were more than willing to let me go back to work part time- Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.  That leaves me with a four day weekend.  Even better, my husband works 4- 10 hour days, so we have family 3 day weekends.

My major concern was child care.  I didn't know the first thing about day care and I wasn't crazy about the uncertainty that comes with a babysitter.  Luckily, Max was able to get into the day care at work. I can nurse him on my lunch!  Also, my job is nursing mom friendly and they provide a pumping room and hospital grade pumps.  I just have to bring my own parts. I feel secure with this option.

Still, when I actually think about going back, it's like someone is tearing a gullet through my heart.  I'm not ready to leave my little man.  What snuggles and coos am I going to miss?  I'm not ready to be fully initiated in the adult world either.  All I can talk about is poop color!  Am I ready to go back to monthly reports, meeting logistics and being the A/V Queen?   Heck, I don't even know where I put my employee badge!

I'm pretty sure that tomorrow will be filled with tears and when I get home I'll call Saint Brett the Awesome and tell him I want to quit.  And for the millionth time, he'll remind me of all the reasons why I don't. But for now, I have a little dude that needs snuggling after a long nap.


*Edit*  I realized I unintentionally used the word "gullet", which happens to be the first Word Up, Yo word!  Go me!