Blogging our first pregnancy and child rearing, all the ups and downs, tears and laughs and overthinking that not only comes with being knocked up and a new Momma, but with just being me.
Last night was kind of a big deal for me. It was the first time in 15 months that I wasn’t the one to take Emilio home. That meant no nursing when he got home and no Mom making dinner.
When I write it out like that it doesn’t seem like as much of a big deal. It was, for me.
Instead of booking to Penn Station 5 minutes later than I should have, I took a leisurely stroll south to Yogamaya and met up with Alison who was only in town for a week for the first Yoga class in longer than I could imagine (over a year).
I was anxious, which I tried to capture above. I was nervous about class, and anxious about how Emilio would be, not because Matt was with him, but because I wasn’t.
After a great flow, and a quick but great catch up, I booked it to Penn and caught the train home. Texts flew as I checked to make sure all was ok on the homefront. Of course it was. He was happily eating and Matt was acting as dinner time pro (read: go with the flow, don’t force food, know he’ll get what he needs) I walked in exactly when I wanted to. Emilio was playing in the bath and all was quiet. There was no tearful reunion, instead I saw a warm smile of recognition and then it was back to business.
Matt told me how Emilio had looked for me in a couple of rooms, and it made me happy to know he’d missed me but not so much it hurt.
I always knew kiddos were versatile, and I knew it would be harder on me than him.
This morning as I was getting him dressed we had the following conversation:
Me: “Last night, I didn’t pick you up, Dad did. Then he fed you, and played with you and put you in the bath. “
So, we’re good.