…Aren’t for babies. At least the return leg. Robbie and I went up to Vermont with two friends this morning and met up with two other friends for lunch at Simon Pearce. He did so well on the way up there. He kept himself entertained during the hour wait for our table. He was even pleasant during lunch, once he got his grilled cheese. I cruelly woke him up after driving from lunch to Woodstock to shop and explore. And later forced him to play while we enjoyed dessert before driving home.

The poor baby was too tired to sleep. He cried nearly half the way home, so uncomfortable in his car seat. He didn’t want milk or anything to do with my friend Jane, who tried to soothe him. He fell asleep after about twenty minutes of crying, and we enjoyed the quiet snoring for almost an hour. All of a sudden, he woke with a start, panicked. There was nowhere to pull over in mid-New Hampshire, so we had to keep going.

I finally managed to pull over. There were no diaper problems. Just a sweaty baby who could not be consoled. He screamed for at least another thirty minutes, sometimes going up an octave in desperation. Jane finally got him calmed, something I am not good at when Robbie gets panicked. And it calmed me down, too. I’m still noticing that my jaw is tense from clenching it during all of the screaming.

It was a wonderful feeling, though, to pull in and get a sleeping boy out of the car. There’s nothing quite like they way they cling to you in their sleepy state. Robbie smiled all the way upstairs and drowsily laughed as I changed his diaper. I love those moments. Just not the desperate screams that get him there.

I didn’t believe in pregnancy brain until I left my purse on the table of a crowded restaurant and walked out. I wasn’t totally convinced when I missed my exit twice on one trip home from the airport with my sister. I knew it was true when I called the office looking for a student I was sure was skipping only to find out that he had been in my class the entire time.

I naively hoped that it would fade after Robbie was born, but, no. There was just the onset of mommy brain, which is worse than pregnancy brain because there are no hormones to blame. And I can’t blame sleepless nights. It’s just pure stupidity from giving so many things little bits of my attention.

I fell victim to the perfect example of mommy brain today. Robbie and I had a busy morning, meeting with the contractor who’s been doing work around the house, hitting the gym, having lunch, and planting 120 crocus bulbs. I rushed through the last part of gardening, leaving twelve mums and countless tulip and daffodil bulbs unplanted, because we had a Red Sox game to get to. I’d been trying to get ahold of the friends Robbie and I were going with all afternoon and grew more and more panicked when they didn’t answer.

I grabbed everything I needed, including Robbie, and dashed out the door. I called a new friend from work, who was going to meet us, explaining that we would be a little late. In five minutes, Robbie and I were knocking on Micah and Allie’s door, decked out in our finest Red Sox attire. And Allie opened the door in a sweatshirt and yoga pants with a very confused look on her face. Because we didn’t have tickets for the game this afternoon. We had them for tomorrow. When Robbie and I will be in Vermont for the day.

Of course. Of course. Justin is out of town for five days, and I was so proud of myself for finding ways to keep busy the entire time he was gone. Except I didn’t. I felt so stupid; I nearly burst into tears in the middle of the living room. Luckily, Micah and Allie are amazing friends and salvaged our near disaster of an afternoon. They took me to drop of the car to get detailed, where the rear windshield wiper was torn off in the car wash… And we took a long walk and had dinner on a park bench.

Now I sit here, hoping that I do in fact have plans to go to Vermont tomorrow. Wouldn’t it be terrible to find out that I’d actually made those plans for today?

And I’ve survived another week. Made it all the way to 3:07 on Friday afternoon. Don’t get me wrong. I absolutely love my job; I have some amazing students. But, God, Friday feels great. Especially when I know I have a clean house, a rainy night, and a husband who is out of town for the weekend. All I wanted was to get home and enjoy the quiet. And here I sit, perfectly content as the rain pounds on the newly replaced roof.

I love having a Friday night with time to just breathe. We spend so much time trying to fit everything in, and last weekend was such a whirlwind. Justin hasn’t been out of town for an extended period since July. I’m excited to only have to clean up after myself and watch what I want and not have to talk after Robbie goes to bed.

Believe it or not, I’m very much an introvert. Teaching all day wears me out, especially now. I’m on my feet and working with kids more than I think I ever have. I love it, but I need time at the end of the day to recover. I think that surprises a lot of people, since I play the part of an extrovert very well. And on that introverted note, I’m going to sign off.

But just one more thing… A special hello to Jasmine and Cristina, students of mine who have apparently become devoted but disappointed readers. Only disappointed because they haven’t been mentioned. But the world should know that they are fabulous!

I wondered how long it would take for Robbie to turn into his father. It turns out, fourteen months. To the day. I walked in to get Robbie out of his crib on Tuesday to find him in a shirt and his diaper. His pants had been thrown onto the floor. Just like a man to want to sleep in his underwear!

And, in my female naiveté, I thought it was a fluke. How wrong I was. I put Robbie down to bed at 7:00 tonight and then stayed upstairs to clean. Robbie decided not to go to bed and stood in his crib saying “Hi” every time he caught a glimpse of me. I peeked in after twenty minutes or so, and there he was. Robbie was standing there with his arms folded on the railing, head on his arms, and adorable, toothy smile on his face. And his pants were tossed in the corner of the crib. I suppose some man genes just can’t be messed with. God help me if he starts taking off his diaper. I’m so not ready for that.

I asked Robbie why his pants were in the corner. He just looked at me like I was an idiot and laughed. I asked him if he wanted me to put them back on, and he kept laughing and shook his head. I didn’t have the energy to argue with a 14-month-old about why he should wear pants to bed. So he’s upstairs, with his uncovered legs curled under his diapered bottom. At least he still has his shirt on. I think.

Those of you who have met my son know that he does not like to cuddle. He wants nothing to do with being held; he has too much to do. Until recently.

In the past week or so, Robbie has discovered how much he likes affection. One night, he cuddled with me before he went to bed. Granted, he had a bottle of milk. But, still. He spent twenty minutes rocking with me before I put him down. At one point, he rolled over a little and let me rub his back. Robbie had his head buried in my elbow and occasionally threw his head back to give me a huge grin before snuggling up again for more. And now he comes to Justin and me for kisses, although he’s still not sure how much force to use as he throws he head into our mouths. There have been some painful encounters…

Last night, Justin decided he wanted to cuddle with Robbie a little, so he brought the baby into bed with us around 10:45. Roberto stayed asleep for a little while, stretching out across Justin and smiling in his sleep. Justin tickled Robbie a little, and Robbie started laughing with his eyes closed and a big grin on his face. He rolled over onto his belly for a little while and snuggled closer to me, so I could rub his back. After a few minutes, Robbie sat up and moved between Justin and me to get kisses from both of us and then took turns laying his head on our shoulders.

A few months ago, Justin asked me if I thought Robbie knew that when we kissed him it meant that we loved him. I said I thought so, but I really wasn’t sure. Now i know that he realizes that hugs and kisses are good, and he gets a kick out of them. And I’m hoping that, even if it’s only at night, Robbie might be more amenable to a little cuddling.

This marks one year since the end of my maternity leave. I can’t believe that Zhining has been in our lives that long or that Robbie is that old or that I’ve been a working mom all this time. I remember the night before I went back to work; I was a crazy woman. If you don’t believe me, just ask Justin.

Before I went up to bed, I yelled at Justin, telling him what a horrible man he was for forcing me to go back to work. Even while I was doing this, I knew it was terrible of me. Justin would have loved for me to be able to stay at home, but going back to work was what was best for our family.

And then I stormed upstairs to Robbie’s room. I picked him up from his crib – he was still so small then – and took him into bed with me. I cuddled with him, cried over him, and told him how sorry I was to leave him. I panicked a little bit, wondering if this crazy Chinese lady was going to be nice to my son. Sure, she seemed decent enough. But what if he cried and she just left him in his crib in a wet diaper without a bottle for hours on end? And what if, God forbid, he didn’t understand her because she was only speaking Chinese? Like I said, I was panicked.

Justin came up to bed and found me cuddling with the baby and asked me what I was doing. He calmly took Robbie from me and put him back to bed and then let me cry my way to sleep, which was exactly what I needed.

And here we are, one year later. I’ve survived working full time, finishing grad school, and being a wife and mother. In tact. My child is well-adjusted and social. My marriage is strong. My career is exactly where I want it to be. I’ve graduated. Sure, my house is messier than I would like it to be, but it’s cleaner than it would be if I was home with Robbie all day. My time with Robbie is more precious, and so I enjoy him more. As angry as I was with Justin for “making” me go back to work, I couldn’t imagine my life without all these things to juggle. So, here’s to another fabulous year as a working mom!

Justin and I had one of those weekends where we kept discussing different aspects of our marriage. It felt like every time we turned around, we were talking about something different. We don’t have these marathon discussions often. Usually, we let a fight build up, boil over for about twenty minutes, and go back to happy. Now, I don’t mean to imply that these talks were fights. They weren’t at all. We just worked our way through how our lives have changed in the past year, kind of redefining our roles.

A major part of all of these talks came down to what it always does. I need more help, and Justin doesn’t feel like I appreciate what he does around the house. It’s the classic marriage war. We’ve all had the discussion (or fight on some of our less-than-stellar days) a hundred times. You want your husband to help while you try to cook, clean, feed the child, wash the child, put the child to bed. He wants to sit on the couch in his underwear and watch Sports Center. And he wants you to fall to your knees in gratitude when he puts away his own laundry. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

I know that Justin hears me when we talk, and he really does want to help. He just, like any man, gets bogged down in life and can’t multi-task. We talked about how I would like to take time to just “be”, too. And how I could do it that much faster if he helped me. I wasn’t sure how well Justin had “heard” me this time or how much it stuck. However, I can say that I am confident he heard me, at least for a little while.

Justin got home before I did this afternoon, and I called him to help me with a little game of “Pick a Baby”. On Mondays, I bring Robbie’s best buddy home from day care with us, and it’s a feat to get them both into my house. There was no grumbling or, “Give me a minute”. He came right down. In his bare feet. Now that’s service! We got into the house, and Justin disappeared into the kitchen. He came back out with a bouquet of flowers from my favorite florist around the corner. Robbie and I go visit her a few times a week. It is a gorgeous arrangement – perfect for fall. And Justin knows that fresh flowers are my favorite thing. I don’t think he could have let me know that he heard me any better.

But he did. After giving me the flowers, Justin asked what he could do to help around the house. I said I thought we could get Robbie ready for bed after my run and then spend twenty minutes cleaning the house together. I came home from the run (2.5 miles in 28:05; that’s an 11:15 mile!) to find the boys sitting at the table with Robbie was eating dinner. We fixed dinner together and ate as a family. Then, we divided the chores and, at 8:15, were both ready to relax. It’s so nice to know that I’m ready for bed and have a few hours to savor.

Sometimes these marathon conversations aren’t fun to go through. There are tears (at least on my end) and often hurt feelings. But, they end the miscommunication that we so often fall into as we rush from place to place and chore to chore. And they give us the opportunity to appreciate the other person in the end.

We were a family on the move today! Justin impressed me with a 13 mile run this afternoon, as he prepares for a half marathon next weekend. Robbie and I worked in the front yard with our friend Elena, getting everything ready for fall. We weeded (something I’ve been meaning to do since, oh, July), raked, cut back hostas and lilies, and organized the mums I bought. I didn’t plant them yet, and I’m not sure if I’m going to bother. I still have 200 bulbs to get into the ground, and I guess those should get priority. Right? And hopefully one of the neighbors will help… But that’s a whole other story I don’t want to get into right now.

While Elena and I were working in the yard, Robbie decided he wanted to go for a walk. Down the street. This kid has no fear; he just goes. And goes and goes. We corralled him in the Pack ‘n Play, but he really wanted to head down to Mass Ave. and see what was going on in the real world. It’s funny how he just suddenly realized that he could get so much more accomplished by walking instead of crawling.

Justin’s run inspired me to go on my own. I ran 3.3 miles this afternoon in 39:55. Actually, I ran about 3 miles. I walked .3, and I’m OK with that. I averaged a 12-minute mile, something I never thought I would do. Now if only I can keep pace with my friend when we go running tomorrow. I feel like she could go another lap around the pond, and I’m done before we even start…

Because fall is Justin’s busy time with work, I feel compelled to fit as many fall activities into a weekend as I can. Even if it’s 85 degrees an feels nothing like fall, as was the case today. But, temperatures be damned, we had all the fall fun we could muster.

This morning, we headed off to Arlington Town Day. I’m a huge nerd. I wait for this day all year. Well, maybe not all year. That would be really pitiful. But once late August roles around… Part of the reason I like Town Day is that I get to see former students. It’s nice to get to catch up with them for a few minutes and hear what’s going on, especially now that they’re seniors and getting ready to start applying to colleges. Today was a little more special, though. I saw three girls, one of them who wasn’t even my student, and they absolutely made my day.

The first girl wasn’t my student, but she recognized me when we went out to breakfast. She told me that she hadn’t been in my class but she’d really wanted to because my class was “the cool class, the one everyone really wanted to get into.” Are you kidding me? It brought tears to my eyes. I think that might be the ultimate compliment, especially three years after I left the school. Then we ran into two girls who had been in my class, one of them, bless her heart, for two years. They told me they’d had a good English teacher last year, but my class was still the best English class they’d ever had. By the grace of God, I didn’t burst into tears in the middle of Mass Ave.

Justin, Robbie, and I had fun perusing the booths and buying raffle tickets, which it looks like weren’t winners… Justin stopped to meet our Congressman. I don’t even know the man’s name, but Justin recognized him standing in the middle of the road and waited to talk to him. God love him for that.

After Town Day, we piled into the car for more mandatory fun. We were off to pick apples at Applecrest Farm in New Hampshire. I’ve found it’s much better to make the drive to New Hampshire because it’s not as crowded. You spend less time driving to get there than you do waiting in traffic to get to the Massachusetts orchards. We hopped on the tractor and took the five minute ride into the orchards. I’ve never seen Robbie look so serious; he was doing his best to take everything in. The smells, the sounds, the people, the trees. And then he turned and looked at Justin with a huge grin on his face, like he just knew how great it was going to be.

And it was. We got him about a hundred yards into the orchard before we let him go. He had a good time toddling around. I picked him up, and we picked a few apples together. He dissolved into laughter every time he felt the weight of the apple fall into his hand. And then we had the best moment of the entire day.

I put Robbie down near a tree with a low branch and waited to see if he would notice, armed with a camera. Robbie did notice. He gave Justin and me a grin and started toward the branch, arm outstretched for the small apple. He pulled at it a few times, but the apple didn’t budge. Undaunted and, apparently, hungry, Robbie grabbed the apple, pulled it toward him, and sank his teeth into it. He was a little surprised the apple popped away when he finished his bite. Shortly after, the apple fell and became Robbie’s prized possession. He held onto it as we walked to the front of the orchard, rode the train back, and waited for ice cream.

Even Robbie has his limits with loyalty. When presented with a spoon of ice cream, Robbie tossed the forgotten apple onto the ground. Apparently, apple picking also makes you thirsty. Roberto downed my entire bottle of water, although about a quarter of it wound up on his shirt and pants. We need to work on his drinking habits… The water turned cloudy with ice cream residue very quickly.

At the end of the day, Rob was no match for apple picking. He was fast asleep before we even hit the interstate to make our way home. And it must have done something to him because he cuddled with me before he went to bed, something he hasn’t done since he stopped nursing in May. At one point, he was on his stomach in my lap, his head nestled in the crook of my arm while I rubbed his back. He lifted his head up and shot me a smile that was pure bliss and made googly eyes with me like we used to do when he was a baby.

Robbie saw his first fireworks show tonight, and it was as magical as I’d hoped it would be. Granted, this was Arlington Town Night instead of the Magic Kingdom. But that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Robbie got “the look.”

You know the one I’m talking about, right? You’ve seen it. Where the eyes glaze over, and you’re totally in a trance. That’s one of my favorite parts about fireworks – watching people watch fireworks. Everyone looks like a kid.

It was an amazing experience watching fireworks with Robbie for the first time. I got to say, “Look, a green one!” and “Wasn’t that the most beautiful one yet?” And you know what? I really meant it. It was like I saw the fireworks for the first time.

I think that’s the best part about being a mom; I love seeing life through a fresh set of eyes. Fireworks, brass bands, fire trucks, and trains. I’ve seen these things hundreds of times but never like I have through Robbie’s eyes. Everything is shiny and new and amazing. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all see the world this way every day? I think I’m going to try.