Down the Road Goes Daddy-o

You were napping when I leaned out the front door and waved to your Dad as I might on any other warmish December day. I raced around the house doing chores as I might. Dishes to the sink, start the washer, fill the bird feeder, put things in their place as I might on any other morning. I work more quickly, lose track of my intentions more quickly, and mind the woodstove more closely than on past winter days.

There's a baby in the other room. I hear him. I could hear him over a low flying jumbo jet. I take my husband's advice of yesterday and shove a few heaping tablespoons of tepid instant oatmeal into my mouth - "You have to make sure you eat."

We made it through our first solo parenting day, thanks to a visit from my Mom who brought lunch, conversation, and an extra set of hands.