396 months

It's my birthday!

So far, there have been fewer tears than on my last birthday with a newborn. But the sleep deprivation has definitely caught up with me. This morning I had a small meltdown (alone) after K yelled at me. Can you imagine if I cried every time he got mad at me? There wouldn't be enough tissues in all the Costcos in the world. And I actually cried in the car when that song that goes, "It just takes some time, everything will be all right" came on. I felt a little ridiculous.

Anyway, I managed to get X in the car and meet my lovely husband for lunch. It's a sunny, warm day, the first in a long time. And look at this cute baby:

So, overall, maybe not my most relaxing birthday, but I can't complain. Besides, I'm on maternity leave. All the time-to-myself things I usually like to do on my birthday, like visit a bookstore, get some ice cream, take a long afternoon walk? For the next four and half months, I can do that stuff ANY DAY. Maternity leave is like one long birthday present.

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Five weeks

Dear X,

At five weeks old, you are still very much a newborn. You are a little ball of cuddliness, most of your sounds are still squeaks and grunts, and you still throw your arms open when you're the least bit startled.

Up until now, you have been a textbook baby. You eat approximately every three hours, then have an alert period during which you observe your surroundings with interest, followed by a long nap. I put you down as soon as you start yawning and closing your eyes, and you often go right to sleep with no singing, swaying, or any other intervention required. I can usually tell why you're crying, and you stop once the offending circumstance is corrected. Aside from the around-the-clock feedings, you've made the first month of my maternity leave very easy.

You are starting to show the first signs of growing up and having your own personality. You have added some human noises to your repertoire. Once in a while you even say "Goo" like a real baby! You hate being swaddled or confined in any way, including, alas, in a sling or carrier. You are fascinated by the ceiling fan. Yesterday I folded an entire load of laundry and sewed a button on Daddy's shirt while you lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I used to put your brother on the dining room table and hang toys from the chandelier so I could have five minutes to eat lunch, but all I have to do with you is turn the fan on and you raise your eyebrows and grunt and fling your arms around like it's the most amazing thing you've ever seen. (Actually, it probably is. On your trips out of the house, you're usually asleep.)

We're looking forward to getting to know you over the coming weeks and months. Meanwhile, we're enjoying your cuddly ball-ness. We know it won't last very long.

Love,
Mommy

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Accurate impressions

On my to-do list: All manner of household chores, exercise, make various phone calls, write thank you notes, pay bills, shower. (I have a newborn. Showering is on my to-do list, and it doesn't always get done.)

What I'm doing instead while the baby naps: Reading some of my old blog posts from 1L year. I came across a roundup of some OCS presentations I had attended recently, including one on corporate law. I summed up my impression of corporate law thusly:

"Late nights doing boring stuff."

So now I know those OCS presentations were worth attending.

Here's another 1L impression, also based on an OCS presentation:

Tonight I went to a panel about large firms. The takeaway message for me was that I probably can't work at one. I don't want to wait until I'm in my late thirties to have kids, and the part time option doesn't seem like it works. As much as I dislike most of David Brooks's ideas, maybe he's right about one thing: you can't raise a family and work full time, at least not without some serious help. And I hate the idea of paying someone else to raise my kids. Maybe in my thirties, I should focus on my family, and in my forties I can start devoting serious time to my career.

My parents made it work, with lots of help from their friends and my grandmother. But they had regular, predictable schedules. Tonight I kept hearing how you're expected to check your Blackberry constantly, and how you have to cancel your plans at the last minute because a partner has just dropped something on your desk. If you have a three-year old waiting for you, you can't just announce that you're not coming home. I don't want to be that type of parent.

I'm not sure how to respond to this. Maybe the reality of having a family and working at a large firm is different than I thought it would be. Or maybe I don't want to acknowledge that I was right, and I chose differently than I expected to five years ago.

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Giant baby

X snuck in an extra feeding last night in between his usual 11 p.m. and 3 a.m. sessions. This morning he suddenly didn't fit into any of his newborn clothes, resulting in about 20 minutes of baby torture while I kept dressing and undressing him, looking for an outfit that would allow him to fully extend his legs. He weighed in at 12 pounds this morning (I think our scale is a little more generous than the pediatrician's, though -- he has an appointment later this week, so I'll have to weigh him at home first to compare).

Giant baby!

Giant baby, viewed from above

Please stop yelling, giant baby! We submit to your will.

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