A combination of lucky timing, a well-scheduled playdate, and two girls on their best behavior brought my first-day-after-maternity-leave panic down to a manageable jitter. We did fine.
Best of all, I feel like a professional again.
Even before the Blueberry came along, I was starting to worry that the world wasn’t getting a 40-hour workweek out of me. Sure, I kept busy getting Boo to classes and keeping her fed, but really, how hard is it to hang out with a verbal three-year old? Especially a social one — she’d often leave me off in the corner of the playground while she went to gossip with the big princesses. “No boys,” she likes to tell me. Hah!
Today, the day my wife returned to work, was a ceaseless stream of nappings and feedings and butt-wipings. I washed my hands 22 times before I lost count. And naturally, I’m exhausted, but also exhilirated — not by my unimpeachable performance, since I did just O.K. No one broke any bones but both girls has some brief moments of unhappiness, mostly when needing my attention.
No, I’m thrilled to once again be doing my *job*, the thing I do best and the reason I’m here at the moment.
Once again, at long last, I am a productive, contributing, essential dad for realz. And that makes the endless work all worth it.