I resist change

 At the office each day, I have the world’s greatest party trick. All day long, as the hours slowly pass, my boobs just get bigger and bigger. They aren’t small in the morning, and by the end of the day, watch out. Someone might get hurt.

Do you want to know my secret? Breastfeed a baby for almost eighteen months and then leave the house for 10.5 hours a day. Then keep nursing her in the morning and before bed (and all day long on the weekends), and you’ll trick your body into thinking your not weaning, but instead still need to produce lots of milk. Then watch boobs grow. And grow.

To say that I miss The Children isn’t quite right. It’s more like I’m not sure how to understand my day without them, how to step away from their days. Our days. My body (see above, re: boobs) and my heart are resisting the adjustment of it all, and instead seem to be doing everything in their power to keep reminding me to go home. Home! they tell me, you’re needed at home! Plus if you’re at home, you won’t have to enter data!

Shira, in her way, is handling my going to work swimmingly. If I’m home she’ll ask to nurse every other hour, and when I walk through the door at the end of my work day she greets me expectantly, but during the day she’s just fine. In fact, I think she quite enjoys all her time with her Papa. Alyce, on the other hand, deals with life in a different way. She, too, enjoys bossing Papa around, and in many ways she seems to have adjusted to this new normal. In the morning, during the six minutes I spend with her before leaving for 10.5 hours, she’s all business: she doles out hugs, kisses, compliments (on my outfit), suggestions (here, wear this necklace, too), and advice (drive safely). And when I come home each night she’s right there to welcome me back. The resistance comes in her renewed commitment to not listening on the weekends, which we could all do without, but can handle. And I might be imagining this, but I think that Alyce has become an even greater big sister since I’ve started working, looking out for Shira and inviting her to play together a little bit more, thinking of herself as a mama-in-training. Handy, that.

Whose having the hardest time adjusting? Anyone? Me. For example: all this time I’m spending away from The Children makes me want to inhale them when I’m home. If I’m in the room with them, I need to be close by, breathing in their smells (not all of them good, I’m afraid), giving them kisses, and stroking their hair. Alyce, it seems, has had enough. Case in point, a few nights ago she awoke around eleven, as she often does, needing a quick kiss and reminder that we are all in fact still home. The entire process usually takes around 45 seconds. But no, I jumped at this opportunity to slide into bed with her, spoon her, and grin ear-to-ear with the loveliness of spending time with my little girl. After about a minute, Alyce groaned at me to get out of her bed and to let her sleep. Then she pushed me.

So yes, I miss my girls. But my boobs have never looked better.