It was only really a half-day, because TB was at his grammy's all morning while I worked from home 8-12. The big excitement of the afternoon?
Caution: Gag Reflex Ahead! I was feeding him defrosted breastmilk, which is stored in 4 to 6 ounce portions in these Avant Via "disposable" bottles. ( yeah right, you think we're going to throw them away? Why not just chuck 50 cent pieces in the trash with each one? ) Anyhow I wasn't sure how much he'd take at once and he let me know "less then I'd given him" by ralphing up about two onces of warm boobiejuice all over himself, me, my shirt, my pants, and the couch. Time for outfit #2 for both of us.
He seems happy though, I was afraid he'd be freaking out missing his mommy. She'll be home now in about 45 minutes and he's sleeping in his swing to the sound of his favorite CD, "Psychologically Ultimate Seashore." Sixty minutes of waves.
Hail Frigga for today. My wife suggested yesterday calling a friend who is especially close to the All-Mother and asking him to talk to her for me. I said nah -- I gotta talk to her myself. She's so sweet, she's taken such good care of our family, helping the boy through his early struggles with feeding, putting me in a position to be home with him, giving my wife the courage to go back to work. The gods really, really do take care of us.