When we first went back to work 2 months ago I was so excited to get out of the house. I felt guilty about how liberating it felt, but I would count down the hours in the morning until Joe got home and then rush out of the house towards sweet freedom. And I marvelled at stay-at-home mothers. I'm just too selfish, I thought. But recently I've found myself resisting leaving in the afternoons or coming home early and just in general wanting to be home with Nicholas rather than seeing it as something to flee from.
And, okay, a little bit of the change may be because the work I'm doing right now is frustrating, but I think mostly it is a sign of how much easier life with Nicholas has become. It happened so gradually that I didn't really notice, but sometime between 4 weeks and 3 months the mix of trying and enjoyable shifted from predominately the former to disproportionately the latter. I remember saying to people in the first few weeks that I didn't know how anyone ever had a second child. Now I know--things get much better and those first few weeks fade into a hazy nightmare. Or maybe that's just me.
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