"This is the Bob and Tom show," barked the radio at 6 AM this morning, waking me for my first day back at work.
The morning from 6 to 7:30 was the Chloe show: waking her, feeding her, changing her, dressing her, and washing her face and neck (which she hates but is necessary because of the milk dribbles that collect between her second and third chins). Edith arrived to pick her up for the day. I kissed Chloe, then armed Edith with a full diaper bag and a handful of bottles and left her in the rain to figure out the carseat. (She said I could go. Honestly.)
The traffic on the way to work was unfamiliar--not that it was a lot of traffic, but I haven't been driving during rush hour for almost three months now. Work was also unfamiliar--they remodeled our office space while I was gone and only moved back earlier this week, so I had to inquire where my desk was. (Though my boss had marked it with my plant, so I should have noticed. But I had figured that plant was dead and so wasn't looking for it.) I'm pleased to be back at work. These last couple of weeks at home with Chloe have been nice, but the first ones were a bit stifling and soul-wearing, and I'm glad to get back to my old routine and be able to talk to other adults. Money is good, too, of course.
Edith said she'd call, but she didn't. I wasn't heartbroken, but I would have liked to hear how Chloe was doing. When I got home it was evident she was doing very well; she was happy and playing and had, apparently, slept most of the morning and been an angel. She was pleased to see Eric. She cried when I held her. Apparently she didn't miss me. That'll make tomorrow even easier.