Dear Scarlett,
In these letters, I am always telling you about you. It's an incredible thing, to be able to watch the way you change daily. Just seeing your reaction to a certain book can make my day (or at least make my hour.) But I think I need to start telling you about some other things, too. Like about me, and about Dad, and about things going on in the world. So here goes.
I went back to work on October 18. I've been really happy having that piece of my life back, even though I miss being with you. I've worked at home since we moved here from New York, so I spend a lot of time on the phone and the computer. In addition to my regular job, I've started writing for a website called Dotcoms For Moms. I am their Healthy Mom and I blog weekly about websites and products that I think other moms would appreciate. Please don't tell them I ate ice cream and pizza for dinner tonight.
Sometimes it gets a little lonely or hard to concentrate, but mostly, I can get a lot of things done without the interruptions of an office. And when that happens, I have a little extra time for you. When I was on maternity leave, we used to take walks every day. Now there's not as much time, but I try to walk for coffee with you and Aunt Lizzie every morning, or as often as I can. The staff at Peet's Coffee knows us very well. They claim that you're their favorite baby, and it does seem to be true. They stop whatever they're doing to talk to you when we walk in. You will sometimes reward them with a small smile for their trouble.
When I'm done working, it's time for just me and you. Sometimes you nap, sometimes we lie in bed and you hunt the cats. Sometimes we just sit in your room and play. You love standing at your music table, looking at pictures of animals, and crawling up and down the hall, with an occasional detour into the bathroom or kitchen. When you nap, I read books. I just finished one called Room that has really stuck with me. It's about a mom and her little boy who are trapped, and how much they love each other. I can't stop thinking about it. It was a terrifying and heartbreaking book, actually. It illuminated the innocence and adaptability of children, and the utter faith they have in their parents. You might read it one day and say that I'm crazy for having written about this when you were 8 months old. But the way the mother in the book feels about her son, her fierce need to protect him: that's how I feel about you.
Dad is on a business trip this week, in Denver and Chicago. Which, I assume, is why you chose this week to go through the most terrible bout of teething we've seen yet. Your nose and mouth are a faucet, and you were up all day and night on Sunday. Things seem to be getting better, and I'm hopeful that those devilish teeth will pop through very soon. We could both use some sleep. Since Dad is gone, I've caught up on my episodes of Glee, which is a great show that I will never watch with Dad because he would ruin it with his commentary. We watch 30 Rock and The Daily Show Together instead.
Dad got a personal trainer and has been working out at the gym a couple of nights a week. I'm really proud of him for this, and secretly hoping it will motivate me to work out more. I go to a yoga class once a week, but other than that, it's been tough to find time to exercise. Does following you up and down the hallway count?
My life right now is simple and complex at the same time. Simple because it needs to be: I work, I take care of you, I try to wash my hair. Complex because life requires so much more than those things, and sometimes it feels like I'm hiding from the rest of it. But this time won't last forever. So if some things are left undone while I watch you repeatedly try to get your hand into the cat food bowls, I'm good with that. I suspect those things will still be there when I'm ready for them.
I love you,
Mom
