So. It's been almost two whole weeks since I set foot in an office.
I still haven't unpacked any of the crap I dragged home with me and there are still three picture frames and two desk lamps in the trunk of my car. I still check my work email every day.
I still haven't taken the dog to the vet for a way-overdue checkup and I haven't mailed the boxes of baby clothes to my sister. I haven't taken Noah to the park once and haven't even started looking for a playgroup.
I still don't get enough sleep or drink enough water. I forget to eat lunch a lot. I still can't get Noah to eat anything besides fruit. I leave the Food Network on all day for company.
I still haven't worked out a regular schedule with a part-time nanny, and I still feel really weak admitting that I need a part-time nanny. Noah still watches Baby Einstein at least once a day.
I love writing for Alpha Mom. I love writing the ClubMom blog. I still haven't gotten used to surfing blogrolls beyond my own. I'm not used to seeing myself discussed on other blogs like a character in a book instead of a real person. I'm not accustomed to the turn my blogging fortunes have taken. About the high expectations and the fact that my words -- words which are never good enough, words which I can never bend and hammer into my exact meaning -- are all some people see. I wonder if I'll ever be okay with the speed at which some people pass judgement.
I'm overwhelmed by my unanswered emails and what those people must think of me. I'm irritated at how I can't seem to write anything substantial for this site anymore. I read other sites that blow me away with their brilliance and humor and I am too shy to email or comment because I figure they must think I'm annoying and overrated and tacky.
I'm not used to this devastating lack of confidence.
I still can't believe Noah is crawling. Or standing. That he can take a lid off of a shoebox and bang blocks together and pick up dog kibble and drink juice from a sippy cup. I can't believe I was right there when he started doing all of those things.
I'm already used to cuddling with him every morning. I don't mind banging blocks together or prying dog kibble out of his fingers. I'm okay with the most astute and pithy observation I make in a day being that Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Baa Baa Black Sheep and the ABC song have the exact same melody and how in the world did I go 28 years without ever noticing that? I'm okay with cutting myself some damn slack already.
And I'm okay with just shutting up and posting this already because I'd rather go play with my son and some plastic measuring spoons.