Both sets of grandparents returned home. Greg's gone back to work. It's me and Baby C, mano-a-mano at last.
High on the list of my all-time personal achievements was surviving Monday. I left the house alone with Baby C for the first time, figured out her Snap-N-Go carseat and stroller, made it to my post-op doctor's visit, and made it home without forgetting anything that I know of. At least, the baby's still here.
All was well at the doctor's, except for the distressing news that the bulge around my middle was not going to miraculously disappear without diet and exercise. Right now, none of my pre-pregnancy pants fit and my maternity clothes are too summery. I'm in denial that I need to buy new, bigger pants and have been living in two pairs of jeans that my dear friend Marina let me borrow. (No one should attempt pregnancy or parenthood without a friend like her).
So, we're surviving, Baby C and me. We're watching lots of bad t.v. and flirting with fantasies of a trip to Starbucks in the stroller. All optional activities (housework, laundry, holiday planning, the occasional shower, and - oh yeah - this blog) have been curtailed, but now that the shock of our first days alone are wearing off, I hope to get back to them more frequently. Especially showering. I miss that.