First Day Back

For the last 6 months, I've been equally longing for and dreading my first day back at work. In September, I wasn't sure I could handle Riley without Ryan because we'd been a team all summer. Then I got used to it and it was lovely. In October, I got restless and didn't know if I could make it to January without something else to do during my day besides hanging out with a 4-month-old and cook and clean and run errands. I almost signed up to sub one day a week. Come November, I had found my stride and had several teary evenings because now I didn't want to go back to work. I wanted to stay home and hang out with my little bean and cook, clean, take walks, and run errands. How erratic I am! Then, slowly, throughout the month of December (and a couple good counseling sessions with Christine), I finally felt a bit of peace, which is not a word I use lightly. For the last few weeks, I've been looking forward to going back to work because I miss teaching. I left a job I really enjoyed and I wanted it to still be a part of my life. Though I will never love it more than her, I don't feel like that means I have to always and only choose her.

Last night I didn't sleep well because I was nervous, more for Riley's sake than for mine. A bottle is a play toy to her and she just starting solid foods a couple weeks ago (bananas and peas are her favorites so far). She'd never gone that long without nursing except at night. So I was worried that my mother might have a melt down on her hands, not because Riley was hungry, but just because she was irritated at not being able to nurse. And Riley loves nursing. She has the dive bomb the breast move perfected.

So the morning was good, really fun. Fun kids, fun to be back at school. I was really enjoying myself. Then 11:15 came and my teaching day was done. I bit my fingernails all the way home, anxious to hear how it went. My worries, as usual, were unnecessary. Mom got Riley to drink a little from the bottle, fed her some banana, and lulled her into her morning nap with a long walk in the stroller. I came home to a happy baby ... until, that is, she saw me walk in the door, at which point she started wiggling and whining like I new she would. And it didn't stop until she was happily in my lap, nursing and petting my chest.

Maybe this transition won't be as traumatic as I thought it might be. Thank God for happy babies and helpful moms.