My mom took Frances back to her house for a few days and it's amazing how quiet it is around here. I keep forgetting she's gone and assuming she must be napping.
The last few days have been rough with F. Mitch got the stomach flu and she couldn't understand why she couldn't play with Dad, and I had the baby hanging off my boob half the time so I couldn't play with her either. She sure is cute, though, even when she's upset.
You know, having the first kid is such a shock, such a lifestyle change, and it leaves you wondering what the hell you've done to your world and sometimes wishing you could go back. But the second isn't so stunning... You know what to expect, what's going to be hard, and you're already doing the kid thing, so it's not an enormous shift. What strikes me as funny now, especially here in the quiet with F gone, is why I found it so shocking in the first place. I'd forgotten how much babies sleep--it leaves me all kinds of time to nap or do laundry or write on the blog or lie flat on my back and watch Oprah. I can take walks when I want, go to the grocery store; we could go out to dinner for godsake, a luxury I'd all but written off for several years.
I'm going to take this opportunity to clean out a closet.