That Mom

It's 11:15 and I'm finally home from work. You'd think, after a month and a half, that this working thing would be getting a little easier. It's not. I mean, I don't cry anymore, but while I'm running around serving salad and crappy wine, my mind is at home with Mason. Is he smiling? Does he miss me? I watch the clock and think of what he's probably doing. 6:00 - out for a walk. 7:00 - playing maybe? chewing on the new musical teether he loves? 7:30 - bath time, guzzling milk, and sleeping. I wonder if he thinks about me too. "Hmm, it's 5:30, Mommy must be grating a half-pound of cheese onto someone's big ol' plate of pasta".

Really though, I think about Mason so much I can't shut up about him. All my friends are sick of hearing poop stories, I'm sure. It's not only my friends though. I find myself rambling to random people about Mason. My standard greeting when I go up to a table is something like, "Hi, my name's Megan, I'll be taking care of you. Today we're featuring strawberry martinis, Blue Moon draughts, and I have a baby, do you want to see his picture?!" If I get a table with a baby, I ask how old he is and then chime in with "I have a four-month-old!" If they don't ask further questions, I actually get a little annoyed. Sometimes, I'll volunteer random Mason facts. "Did you know Mason's favorite toy is his orange monkey and his favorite stuffed animal is named dog-man?" I jump at the chance to show the dozens of pictures I carry around with me. I tell pregnant ladies about how being a mama is the best thing in the world... that I never could have imagined how great it is. I'm corny and annoying and I don't care. I can't' fathom why anyone wouldn't want to talk about my baby.

There are Mason pictures all over my house. I even have a giant portrait of him at three months old on my living room wall, and plan on getting additional super-huge portaits when he's six, nine, and twelve months old. By Mason's first birthday, any and all white space on the walls will surely be covered with his photos.





Somehow, I've turned into that mom. I don't even care.

I love every minute of it.