Tradeoffs

Ah, boy. Yesterday's entry was supposed to reflect my gratitude rather than imply hubris, but I got repaid for the celebratory tone nonetheless in the form of lots of baby barf. When I got home from work HR got busy throwing up--about seven times within two hours--emptying his wee belly and transforming from my action baby into a pathetic little snuggler. We still don't know what the cause was, but he didn't have a fever, his wet diapers indicate he didn't dehydrate, and as of this morning he was back to nursing (and keeping it down) like a champ. My husband's taking him to the doctor for a follow-up just to be safe, but I have a feeling this can be chalked up to one of those mysterious things babies do to keep your life from getting too comfortable. The long sleep the night before was probably an indicator of the impending illness, but it was also a good thing to have under our belts because we got the opposite sort of sleep last night. It was like the old days, the two of us taking turns holding him while he snoozed because we're neurotic noobs and we didn't dare put him in his crib on his back for fear of some sort of Bon Scott action. Reading this ought to keep some people on birth control for a good long time, eh? This is my life now. It's totally worth it.

I'm trying very, very hard not to be a guilt-ridden worrywart as I sit in my office and the husband deals with the baby all day today, but I was on baby watch last night so it all works out in the end. That's how we do it - I've got the job with the office hours and benefits, he fills in the cracks with nights and weekends and work-from-home gigs so that one of us can be home with the baby. So far, so good. Nothing against daycare at all, we are just selfishly obsessed with our little dude and decided that if we could at all work out a way to have one of us home with him most of the time, it was worth a shot. Of the two of us, he's the more domestic and I just like my job better than he liked his so he's primary caregiver four days a week. He's playtime Dada, I'm the bedtime lady. We don't see each other a whole lot with this schedule, but you know, right now it's more important to us that HR gets someone to be indulgent to his every whim. And who is going to call one of us to report on an especially impressive fart or make videos of him bouncing around to "All the Single Ladies" with a pair of shorts on his head for Mama to watch when she gets home from work if we send him to someone else? We'll find a way to get him socialized - we're not trying to make an isolated little freak boy out of him. We're just older parents who have the luxury of this arrangement and are on the fence about whether we'll ever have another baby experience so we're jumping into this one with everything. People may have opinions about whether this is bad for him, but I'm not hearing them.