One of the privileges of being the father of a newborn is that you're not housebound. Yesterday, in fact, I went out for several hours, first to a dissertation defense (congrats Dr. Molly!), and then to the dentist (which was probably payback for getting to leave at all).
It was strange in a way to be back in my "old world," surrounded by my colleagues and by faculty members, talking about history (some), and being in a professional environment. For the first time in two weeks, I pulled a shirt off the top of the dresser rather than digging for the bottom so that I wouldn't mind getting spit up on it. I noticed that I now unconsciously sway from side to side while standing in place, which is undoubtedly a result of how I spend most of my standing time.
Anyway, the point is that I felt guilty. Guilty that I can leave the house freely, that I can go talk to adults about grown-up things, like, er, the early modern world, and Sarah is stuck at home trying to make it through from feeding to feeding. It's not particularly fair, of course, but that's the way it is. And Sarah is generous about my going out. I may even get to play some softball in the next few days!
On the other hand, I've been running nearly all the errands. The grocery store, Target, the grocery store again (how could I have forgotten ice cream the first time?), Babies R Us. By the way, don't go to the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon; it's full of old people playing some sort of slow-motion version of bumper carts and children running wild. So leaving the house hasn't been all fun and games.
Also, the dentist.
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