Arlo is 11 weeks old today, which means this is my last week of maternity leave. Fortunately, Danny's work schedule is crazy, so he'll get to stay home with Arlo 2 or 3 days a week. The other days, Arlo will be with my mother-in-law. I'm obviously glad he'll be in good hands, but just thinking of being away from him for ten hours a day, 5 days a week makes me sick. I'll be missing out on fifty hours of his life every week. Heartbreaking. (Don't even think of rolling over for the first time at Grammy's house, kid.)
|Running errands with Mama.|
Arlo's reflux is under control, he smiles a million times a day, he's just starting to giggle while he's awake, and he's getting really, really fun. The enjoyable times outweigh the hectic ones (There, I said it. Newborns are stressful.)—so it freakin' sucks that I'm going back to work next week. Danny'll be home with Arlo my first day back, so it'll blow, but I guess it could be worse.
|Lovin' his play mat, despite not being able to reach anything quite yet.|
|Do you see that dimple?? Ridiculous.|
Yesterday was Father's Day, and I loved spending the day with my boys. Naturally, our lost babies—and the people who are still awaiting their miracles—were on my mind, but overall, it was a really happy day for us. It was a good reminder (like I really needed a reminder) of how lucky Arlo is to have a dad like Danny—who'd do anything in the world for him—especially in a day and age where so many people, myself included, grow up without a daddy.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go stare at my baby.