Starfish and Spit Bubbles

I found out (via email) on Tuesday that I didn't get the Co-Director of College Counseling job I interviewed for. I was really disappointed at first. It was such a great opportunity and parts of it seemed challenging in that really exciting kind of way. But then I looked at my son, who was happily blowing spit bubbles in my general direction, waiting for me to take him out on a running-errands adventure. And there was really nothing to do but shrug it off. I had to admit that I wasn't totally sure I wanted a job that would require 60+ hours a week, since they didn't seem too excited about my suggestion of bringing Milo to work with me. (I'm kidding. Sort of.) Plus, it's really hard to wallow in the face of happy little spit bubbles.

God I love that kid.

So off we went to run errands, with Milo in our Beco carrier, which is super fun because I can hold his hand and he can see everything and then he can just fall asleep when he wants to and I still have my hands free. It was one of those errand-running jaunts that could have been really frustrating. We went to Wal-mart first, because I thought they'd have nearly everything I needed in one place, and I figured I could minimize the whole getting Milo out of the car seat and into the carrier and then out of the carrier and into the car seat thing. Only they didn't have ANYTHING I needed. Which, like I said, could have been really frustrating were it not for the fact that Milo was being super cute and cozy and it felt like quality Milo time even though all we were doing was running non productive errands.

Did I mention how much I love him?

Luckily, we had better luck at Target and wound up heading home with nearly everything we needed, and just in time to be on duty. Unfortunately, Michael was out of town on a business trip, so it was just me and Milo on duty in the dorm. Juggling Milo's needs with those of 28 teenagers isn't the easiest thing in the world but I'm getting into a groove with it. Basically the 28 teenagers are old enough to wait. It works out pretty well. For Milo at least. I worked really extra hard to time all the feeding/naps etc so that he'd be well-rested and well-fed by the time I had to go to my dorm parent meeting. Unfortunately, I forgot to send Milo the memo. Or maybe it's just because he can't read yet or something. In any case, instead of going to sleep when I put him down for his nap, he decided to play some game that involved a lot of squealing and spit bubbles for 40 minutes. And then fell asleep 15 minutes before I had to wake him up to go to the meeting. sigh. I seriously considered leaving him here, but only for a few seconds. If only that video monitor had better range.

So he was a little on the cranky side for the meeting. Which, for Milo, meant that after patiently sitting through the first hour, he started to wiggle and babble and whine a little. It was time for him to eat and there was no end in sight at the meeting, so I decided to try to latch him on and guess what? We did it without flashing anyone for once. I don't even think most of my colleagues noticed. Sweet. And to think mere months ago I couldn't latch him on without yelping in pain.

Anyway, I managed to feed him his solids and his vitamin D, bathe him, get him into jammies, and read him a book AND get him to bed all in between doing the dorm check-ins and having better quality time with the boarding students than I do when Michael is actually here. Crazy. The thing is, I got back and I really wanted to wake Milo up and have him come hang out and watch a movie with me. Maybe make some popcorn. Snuggle on the couch under a big fluffy blanket.

Totally normal, right?

Don't worry, I restrained myself and did some work instead. I was feeling pretty proud of myself when I headed to bed at 1 am. It was a really busy, full day and I handled it all.

And then I noticed that the house actually looked WORSE than it had the day before, which--let me tell you--was really saying something. The laundry the nanny did on Monday hadn't gotten folded. (What else is new?) The dishes she had run were still in the dishwasher. The ornaments were still on the tree. (I'm never getting my kitchen back.) Every inch of the floor and counter space in the kitchen had stuff covering it. The baby bathtub still had water in it, and there were baby clothes and a wet diaper on the bathroom floor. I had to push some cookbooks and clothes over to Michael's side of the bed to make room for sleeping.

But on the way there, I stopped to peer in at Milo, sleeping peacefully in his crib. His legs and arm were splayed out so that he looked like a starfish.

And it didn't matter that my house was a mess and the tree is still up and my work didn't get finished and we didn't patch Milo's eye and Michael wasn't here to make me feel better about not getting that job and hearing about it in an email.

At the end of the day, we had done everything really important that needed to get done. We did it together.We lived to tell the tale, only a little worse for the wear.

And that felt good enough.

OOOOhhhhh is that little starfish good for me.