Friday, August 6, 2010
In exactly one week, my summer and my maternity leave are coming to an end. I've been wanting to write about this for awhile but am not sure what to say, since the thought of going back to work reduces me to a blubbering, worry-filled mess. That said, I am so grateful that G and I had this time. Eight whole months to fall more and more in love with someone every single day. Eight whole months to watch every single shift and change, no matter how minuscule.
It's amazing to me that since G's birth, time has moved simultaneously slower and faster. On one hand I was enjoying all the baby coos, the little garden projects and work done at home at a meditative sort of pace. Watering plants, baking bread, folding tiny socks into each other . . . little sensory revelations. On the other, I couldn't believe how fast she was growing. I couldn't believe how a whole day could pass absorbed in nothing but her. I found myself forgiving my own unrealistic expectations on how much I could actually get accomplish when I was so utterly absorbed with an infant. The concept of "getting things done" has shifted, and that wasn't what this time at home was for, anyway.
In the past few weeks I've found myself working up into a paralyzing frenzy--- Freeze meals! Clean everything! Prepare every lesson you can before going back to teach! What are you doing?! You are not prepared!!!--- and then find myself grateful for a partner who reminds me that life will get in the way despite your best efforts, so why not enjoy another summer evening on the patio with a drink in hand? He has repeatedly reminded me that working or not, I'll always be G's mama and we will all always love each other.
And that makes me smile, instead of panic.