You come and go, you come and go

I was just looking at some photos of Sam when he was about two weeks old. He was so tiny! And that was such a long, long time ago! He is 12 weeks today and I am heading back to work next week. Time sure does fly when you are having fun. And even when you are not.

He has changed so much over the past few weeks. I know that I am probably projecting here, but his little face is so intelligent, like he understands all of the world's troubles - including mine. Poor kid.

That's the most recent photo I have of him - and believe me, there are plenty more where that came from! Since I last wrote on this blog, he had learned to smile, shriek, play with his hands, lick his hands, and coo. His coos sound like "oh" with a British accent. It cracks me up. He is also getting pretty good about holding up his head and getting control of his arms. Not to rush time because I really enjoy him as a baby, but I can't wait for him to start playing and crawling...

I am also somewhat amazed by how much I learned about him. When we brought him home from the hospital I never thought I'd be able to distinguish between the gassy cry and the cranky cry and the mamma hold me cry. But now I seem to be the only one who can tell what's going on with him. When everyone thinks that he is just tired, I know that he is working on a poo.

At the beginning of my maternity leave, it seemed like 12 weeks would never end. I was so tired and dealing with the case of the blues, and all I wanted to do was run away - at least for a while. With the arrival of spring things have definitely improved - Sammy and I bonded over long afternoon naps on the couch and lots of staring at each other and babbling incoherently. (That's mostly me doing the babbling. He just stares at me like I am the neighborhood crazy lady.)

Fun fact about Sam: When he is gassy or cranky in the evenings, he has a little song that he likes me to sing. Don't ask me how this came about, because I really don't know. But singing his Hungarian nickname, Simi, to the tune of Karma-Chameleon by Culture Club works wonders. I really have no clue how and why I started to sing this, but it works. Really. I hold him really close to my face and quietly sing it into his ear and he calms down. I thought it was just the sound of my voice that calmed him down and that any old song would do, but no. Karma-Chameleon it is.

I definitely have mixed feelings about returning to work. I am going to miss him like crazy and I haven't quite figured out yet how I am going to explain the Simi song to the people at daycare. I think what bothers me the most is that I can't explain to him what's going on, that I will be back for him in the afternoon and that he is in a safe place with nice people who will care for him. That kills me. On the other hand, him not understanding much is also a good thing, I suppose.

I am just a tiny bit excited about spending time in some adult company again and having conversations about things other than poop. But as soon as I get too carried away by the excitement, the guilt kicks in: why am I excited to be away from my kid? Ugh. It's complicated. I went shopping last weekend for some work clothes and even after spending several hundred dollars, I didn't get the same high I used to. This is a huge problem - although it will cut down on bills. Bummer.

So, I am preparing myself for the fact that next Wednesday is going to suck royally. I feel like the anticipation is worse than the actual pain will be... At least I hope. But Sammy and I are strong and we'll get through it.