I am entering week three of my maternity leave. Unfortunately, I verbalized to Z that I was getting the hang of Ike’s feeding and sleeping rhythms which means that today he’s been all out of sorts. It’s cool though, this is my second time around so I got this, right? Mmm, sorta kinda. I have the hang of breastfeeding and haven’t even employed the use of a Boppy (that might have more to do with the fact that I’m too lazy to dig it out of our baby stuff boxes. Maybe). I have the hang of changing diapers in the dark, pumping breastmilk, and burping. It’s those things that I’ve forgotten that have me anxious and doubting myself every five minutes.
If you followed me back when I was on Blogger, I spent most of my posts lamenting how much/little time I spent entertaining Connor and how much/little time I spent on chores and housework. I find myself in that catch-22 again: When I’m holding and playing with Ike I’m worried that he’s getting too used to it and will ultimately be a needy child. When I’m not all up in his infantile grille I’m worried that I’m being neglectful and he will never learn his ABCs, how to communicate with people, or what I look like. Essentially, having a new baby has brought out the craziest, most ridiculous, insanely dubious parts of me. The great part about all of this is that it’s made me realize that I wasn’t feeling crazy or insanely dubious as of late, but I’m feeling it now.
Connor is so cool, I worry that I used up all my rad sauce on him and Ike is destined to be uncool. In context here, “cool” means chill, low maintenance, smart, and easy going. If Ike were to be “uncool,” I’ll just be forced to widen my definition of “cool.” Silly thing is, Connor and Ike are ours forever and I love them regardless, so why worry about it? Because that’s what I do, that’s why.