dual personalities

Do you believe it? Katiebelle is 12 weeks old. We have survived a week of teleworking — should I make a joke about loving my newest colleague?

She really is a good work-from-home buddy. I get to have some built-in breaks in my day to feed her, DN is typically on nap duty, and we alternate playtime.

Her tummy time skills have skyrocketed in the past week, and we are very proud. Watching her lift her head up is far more interesting than the latest email correspondence!

I used to think monthly baby updates on social media were pretty cheesy, but I am 100% guilty of finding every little thing Katie does to be supremely fascinating. And of speaking in the third person as “mom.”

Katie loves her hands, she smiles at mom and dad all the time, and she rubs her eyes when she’s tired — adorable. Mom and dad are getting a lot more sleep now that Katie sleeps through the night — about eleven hours with a “dream feed” before mom goes to bed. We love her so much!

The other day I was making the pleasant block and a half walk home from a tiresome day at work. The sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky, my sunglasses barely made a dent in toning down the brightness. It was hot. I couldn’t wait to get my nice, cool apartment building, put my key in the historic lock that turns the wrong way, and let myself into my clean and spacious apartment.

And I had this odd moment that felt almost out-of-body, like, ‘What if you were walking 20 blocks home in the summer heat and then you’d only get to be in that dark, shabby, one-room apartment where there was barely an inch that you couldn’t see from another and that had only an old window unit for cooling?’ I think I actually shuddered remembering what it felt like to be in that NYC apartment.

Somehow, in thinking about that contrast I found a sense of calm settling over me. The reporter who sent me that out-of-nowhere email that was unnecessarily rude and unprofessional vanished from my psyche. The daily COVID-19 stressors dissipated. Worrying about the future didn’t seem so necessary.

It’s all going to be okay. I am in the right place. There’s no need to pound those skittles. It felt like a little nudge from above, reminding me to stop worrying. The ever-present struggle to be a Mary when, despite my name, I act like a Martha.

In other news, I heard this song on the radio this weekend and I think you’ll like it.

*Romans 12:12

Happy Wednesday!