mr. cheeks is two months old today, and life has almost completely normalized.

i work. i fret about work. i sit through meeting after meeting. my mind reels with the neverending tally of action items. sometimes i manage to pop my shirt off and pump for 17 minutes while i slouch behind my monitor and peruse vacation spots on tripadvisor. sometimes i don't, and i come home with swollen breasts. i leave a little earlier than usual these days, so i can soak in as much happiness time with baby james as possible. from 5 pm to 6:30 pm, he is all smiles and squirrely little baby noises. he is still most fascinated by this mobile my mom bought in her indefatigable quest to purchase the most baby items despite my constant refusal. he smiles and waves enthusiastically at it like he's on a parade float. at 6:30 pm he fusses and yearns to be in his dad's arms. he gets his dinner feed at 7 pm and steadily trounces an 8 oz bottle of breastmilk. he falls asleep just about anywhere without complaint or ritual, drowsing just as easily in his crib as he does in my arms. little man is out like a light by 8 pm. ian shortly follows suit. i stay up and google can i lose 30 lbs in one month eating only beef jerky. i wake up between 1 and 2 am and nurse james for a timed 5 minutes while momo skulks around me in the darkness, daring me to trip over her. james crams his whole fist in his mouth and sucks it enthusiastically on his journey back to sleep. and then our day starts over again at 6:30 am.

it is not all that different from my old life, save the happy addendum of a puffy, slobbering little creature who is becoming truly interactive with a rapidity that leaves me saying he's growing up so fast! and then immediately hating myself for resorting to this tired ass parenting soundbite. realistically, he is growing at the absolute appropriate mental and physical pace for an infant. he is 12 lbs and his arm roll count has reached a pleasing 7. his dopey little hairstyle is becoming truly silly. aided by my insistence on parent-directed feeding, he is eating happily on schedule 4 times a day—so it becomes simpler for us to plan our outings around his mealtimes. and we do still go out. i still drink too much at brunch. i still nap too much at home. i'm planning a weekend trip with my entire office staff next month. i'm cramming my permanently widened pelvis and enduring back fat into a hard-won (but still unacceptable) size 6, but sometimes with the unpleasant accessorizing of baby vomit. i'm back to complaining vociferously about my whack body and not being able to wear my thottiest getups. and above the fray of my resolute mediocrity, ian continues to endure me with the patience and kindness of a saint. the more things change, the more they stay the same.