This is how I spent my summer:
With baby Gus.
We spent the whole summer lying around, going swimming, getting to know each other. He is a sweet, happy little guy who loves to smile, roll around, and grab the strings from your swimsuit.
The first two weeks, I kept trying to write fiction. Thinking, “I’m on maternity leave! Seize the day!” But I was so sleep-deprived and exhausted from nursing every two hours, all night long, and chasing after a four year old all day, I gave up.
I had hoped I would get all this writing work done. When Henry was born, I wrote throughout maternity leave. I stuck him in his bouncy chair, rocked it with my foot and hammered away at the computer. But you know what? Not one word of it was published. And the thought of doing it again made me literally sick to my stomach.
I think because I knew, this is it. No more babies. This was my last chance to hold a two-week old, a three-week old, a four-week old.
So that’s what I did. I held him and wouldn’t let him go. With Henry, I was so generous and would let anybody hold him. I was so proud of him, we passed him around at dinner parties.
But this time, I kept this baby to myself. When people asked to hold him, I gave them a minute or two of borrowed sweetness. But quickly took him back again.
I totally hogged him. And I loved every minute of it.