I don't know what took me so long to think to give Zoe a bubble bath. I've had a stash of recycled organic pure extract bubble bath save the world and save yourself crap sitting around forever, and always overlooked it during the chaos of bathtime. Thankfully yesterday, it clicked --
Intent on eating the bubbles.
Prettiest little bath gnome.
She was excited to see her Daddy come home. I think I was even more excited.
I can't remember the last time I used vacation time to go on a vacation. The weather report on my iPhone a few days ago alleged temperatures around 65, so I was excited to vacate to the park and let my daughter run like the wolf through the warm grass. Betrayals. We were stuck in the house most of the day after a blustery stint at the park (where we met a boy named Waylon who recounted the details of his parent's divorce then sung to "my baby" from the swing next to hers -- Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Old McDonald, and BINGO.) The rest of the day me, with a baby, unsure what the hell to do with it. Her, blasé about every toy, game, offer -- demanding only sharp objects, chocolate, and stairs. By the end of the day, BJ laid spooning my defeated body in the middle of the floor. My feet ached in bed like they do when you are on vacation interminably walking around cities or theme parks. I thought about how motherhood can be surrender, in so many ways. I vacillate between wanting another baby so bad, for the many reasons there are -- part of it in hopes that it will provide Zoe with a constant playmate and entertainment that I'm learning the adultness of me just can't sate, while other times I think I'd be INSANE to ever want to procreate ever again -- to volunteer for the devastation of pregnancy and post-partum, to multiply and prolong the cries and sleepless nights and backaches in my life.
How do the stay at home moms do it? Perhaps it’s something one builds up a taste and tolerance for, like adult beverages. During the first week of maternity leave, I recall the systemic shock of being home with the baby full-time. I remember the sharp realization that I'd be happiest as a working mom, but by the end of those two months I had never dreaded anything so much as my warm little nest (generously cushioned by the maternity leave pay) kicking me back out to the working world, and that feeling has stuck with me since.
Perhaps it's a good thing I'm not a stay at home mom. I take so many pictures throughout the day, my computer has given up on holding them for me. Eating breakfast of rum cake on the couch, Zoe stabbing it and everything else in sight with her plastic fork (the girl is stabby) – shaking it to Bob Seger -- the vase of fresh irises on the table -- I never want to miss a thing. But I know I will, so I try to freeze the moments that I get.