The duo that plays together is happy together

My life is in a state of homeostasis — an equilibrium of sorts.

It also is somewhat reminiscent of the film “Groundhog Day.”

At 8 a.m., I get up, get dressed, let the dogs outside and get the baby. He is ravenous when he awakens, so the next order of business it to feed him, feed the dogs, feed myself, then get us both ready for the day.

When I come home from work, we are right on schedule with a fruit serving at about 7:30 p.m., a bath at 8, then bedtime at 8:45.

I have lived this day over and over for about two months, but something different has happened: My baby is fun.

I know what you’re thinking, but before you banish me to the Netherworld of Awful Mothers, know this: I love my baby. I would take a bullet for him. He is the cutest, sweetest, most important person in my life. My sun rises and sets with him. But I have patiently waited for the day when he could interact a little more.

He has learned that I’m “Momma” — although he refuses to say it and laughs hysterically when I suggest it — and seeks me out for comfort. He has started to snuggle when he is tired. He is starting to know what “no” means, and is testing his boundaries. And, best of all, he wants to play.

It’s fascinating to watch him bang a toy on the ground, his eyes squinted in concentration, his little mouth jabbering away. His squeals of delight when I get on all fours and crawl toward him nearly turn me to mush. We even have slow-speed chases, where I crawl down the hallway and he follows me to his room, where I have a few toys waiting.

He also is learning a little bit about independence, and I let him crawl around the living room and simply observe. He chews on the bumpers we put on the tables, he flicks his fingers along the cold air return vent, he pulls himself up on the baby gate and sways back and forth.

It’s incredible to know that, only six weeks ago, he was immobile and completely dependent. Now he is a little boy who is a few months away from walking and wants to break away and discover.

I might only get a few hours with my son each day, but we make the most of it and we are truly enjoying one another.

It might be “Groundhog Day,” but I can’t imagine any other day I would want to repeat.

Babies are a game changer at big events

To bring the baby or not to bring the baby — that is the question.

Major family events bring a host of decisions for the parent of an infant. Is the baby old enough? Will he disrupt any important moments? What about feeding and nap times? Will I have to pump? How do I store the milk?

This summer I’ve handled a plane ride to Florida, a wedding reception and a family reunion.

This past weekend was the big challenge: My husband’s brother was married and my husband and I were in the bridal party. The baby-sitting options were slim, given that my entire support network was either in or attending the wedding.

I opted to import my aunt and cousin from Detroit to watch the baby. They don’t see him very often and it was a way for them to spend some one-on-one time with him.

What I didn’t realize was that I was setting up a guilt-ridden paradox, where I would feel obligated to be in two places at once. I was a bridesmaid — and very honored to be included in that group — so I wanted to make the bride and groom’s special day be perfect.

Conversely, I had my wonderful relatives drive more than three hours just to baby-sit my kid, so I felt obliged to make it be a smooth and enjoyable experience.

Clearly I have guilt issues.

Anyway, the day manifested itself in frantic form, where I raced home after my 8 a.m. hair and makeup session to help my cousin put the baby down for a nap. Then I raced back to the wedding site for the ceremony and pictures.

I drove back home, only to find that my aunt and cousin had taken the baby to the park, so off I went in my bridesmaid dress to meet them. I drew a lot of stares as I walked with two casually dressed women and a baby in a stroller. My bare feet didn’t help the look, as I already was dealing with wedding-shoe blisters.

I raced off to the bridal party dinner and had my aunt and cousin meet me at the reception. By that point, I had a lot of “Where’s the baby?” questions and felt that I needed to provide the child for the oohs and aahs of out-of-town relatives.

I saw him no longer than five minutes before I was off to the bathroom to pump, as he had eaten just prior to arriving.

Then it was toasts and cake cutting, followed by calming the baby down from being passed around to 20 different people.

My evening concluded with me leaving early and mumbling excuses to my mother-in-law for why I needed to leave — and the guilt continues to mount to this day.

In the end, I have to stop trying to please everyone else, because I will please no one. And, as long as my baby is happy and healthy, I’m sure my relatives and friends will understand — or at least be wise enough to not take me to task.

I’m just glad I don't know anyone else who is recently engaged!

Take time to look back at the journey

A friend recently told me, “You always focus on the firsts of things, but you never realize when something happens for the last time.”

It was an interesting concept to ponder. In some ways, I’m glad I don’t realize something is for the last time. I don’t want to feel that punch to the heart when I realize I have rocked my baby to sleep for the last time or that I have breastfed for the last time.

On the other hand, I think it’s important to remember last times when they are evident. Acknowledging these moments helps us appreciate the experiences all the more.

I remember the last day of high school and the exhilarating freedom I felt; I remember the last time I saw my mother and the wrenching heartache in my soul; I remember the last time I kissed my husband as he left for a monthslong sojourn out West.

Sometimes the last-time moments help us appreciate what we have been blessed to have.

I recently had three employees leave The Sentinel because their department was eliminated. It was a painful thing to watch, and in some ways I think I was more affected than they were. I wanted so much to keep things the way they were — us working nights together, laughing at odd news stories, sharing life experiences.

Now they are gone and I miss them terribly, but by missing them, I know how special it was to have them in my life in the first place.

As a new mother, I have been focusing a lot on firsts. Everyone is obsessed with a baby’s progress: “How old is he?” “Is he sitting up yet?” “Is he crawling?” “Any teeth yet?”

But as we constantly look forward, I like to take a little time to look back at the journey.

Focusing on lasts doesn’t have to be sad or depressing, and I think it’s something we shouldn’t fear. I think many of us could benefit on a little reflection and wonder in the joy of life’s long arc — the trials and tribulations it took to where we are today.

And without ends, there would be no beginnings. My friendships with my co-workers is just beginning, even though my working relationship has ended. My baby no longer needs my help to sit, but he’s so close to crawling for the first time.

It comes full circle, and it shouldn’t be any other way.