Back to work, you

So this is the part where I guess I should cry and wail and tear my hair out about the fact that I am leaving my precious babies in the hands of another while I head off to my drudgery job, but I'm just not feeling it. Sorry. We do have a pretty good situation, in that kiddo goes to a day-care setup we like with other kids he likes playing with, and DH telecommutes so it's him with kiddette all day and not some stranger. And I have a certain amount of flexibility in my work hours and can do some things from home, so between the two of us we'll figure out a schedule that works for both of us. Also I like my job. And frankly I think a lot of women feel compelled to do the wailing/tearing hair out just because they think they'll look like a bad/uncaring mommy if they don't, like racking themselves with guilt is how they prove they really, truly love their kids. I really, truly don't feel compelled to prove my mommy-worthiness to anyone except my kids, and as long as they're happy to see me at the end of the day we're cool.

The first day went better for me than for kiddette -- she's a bit needy and spent much of the day on Daddy's chest. He even stuck her in the Bjorn and kept working, which helped a little. But even still, here was the scene I walked in on: kiddette on the play mat yelling; kiddo in his room, in time-out; DH cleaning kiddo's dinner out of the carpet with a snarly look on his face. At which point I said absolutely nothing and walked over to retrieve kiddette. Dinnertime is going to be trouble. We'll have to see how the next few days go.

I have to say, though, the weight loss has been easier this time. I'm still not where I want to be, which is around 120, where I was before kiddo. But I am a little over 130, which is where I was at before kiddette. So I fit into my pre-pregnancy size 8 work pants, unlike last time when I had to run out and buy size 12, then size 10 pants just so I had something to wear. It's nice feeling like I'm sort of within shouting distance of my old body. And I bought some new clothes anyway, because shoot, wouldn't you?

Overheard in the post office

Kiddette and I were on line when two little old ladies entered behind us and their "cute baby!" radars immediately pinged. "Oh, how sweet, she's looking at Mommy, how old is she," etc. Then one started to tell the other about her granddaughter, whose name is Danica.

"Oh, is that Hungarian?" the other asked (I'm assuming the grandma was Hungarian).

"No, it's for a race car driver," the first explained to some amazement. They spent several minutes going back and forth about the interesting race car driver.

So which is funnier, that someone thought so highly of Danica Patrick (despite, or because of the Go Daddy commercial?) that they named their child after her, or that even after Danica Patrick's full media onslaught of the past couple years, two little old ladies had no idea who she is?

Anyway, the postal worker at the counter and I were amused.

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... Aaaand happy to report that I have completed my Jane Austen project, just in time to head back to work and lose all leisure reading time that does not involve "The Wheels on the Bus" or "Red Light Green Light." Celia will be less pleased to know that I liked "Northanger Abbey" but did not love it; I think I just enjoy Austen's heroines more when they're smart and self-possessed, not wide-eyed and innocent. I did laugh at how "Northanger" makes fun of Gothic stereotypes, and there are a couple of passages in praise of novel reading and of writing that appealed to me. But my favorites are still "Pride and Prejudice," "Persuasion" and "Emma," in that order.