It seems that I am finally getting to a point where I can honestly say that I feel better.

I have gone over a week without a meltdown. I have gotten close several times, but I was able to get myself in check before losing control. I’m positive that most of this has to do with the fact that Ethan is on a fairly regular schedule now, which allows some designated “me time” every day. Since Adam generally works nights, I’ve been allowing myself to rely on him a little more during the day so that I can take care of myself and the apartment – plus, this allows him more time with Ethan instead of me monopolizing baby time. There’s really no reason why I should take Ethan on every single errand if Adam is at home. And it’s so freaking cute. I love watching the two of them together.

Baby smiles are also helpful. Ethan has become a grinning machine. I used to sometimes think that he just didn’t like me, but when he gives me one of those dimply grins and wrinkles his little nose, I turn to mush and realize that he knows me and finds comfort in me. That has made a world of difference.

There’s something deviously brilliant about the way babies develop. They show up cute, sleepy, relatively quiet, and snuggly…which lulls you into a false sense of security for the whole day-night reversal, long screaming fits, etc. that appear a few weeks later. So just when you’re about to lose your mind from that, they start smiling and cooing…which is a warning sign that teething is on its way. Well played, tiny humans. Well played.

In other news, we’re going to the beach for a few days to visit my dad and generally take a break from actual life. I am hands-flappingly excited about the prospect of getting away for a bit. My dad and stepmother are planning to watch Ethan for a night, so we’re planning to have a date night. I have a feeling that I won’t have to do much mommying over the weekend…my dad is so thrilled to get to have some grandpa time. Is it totally Bad Mommy of me to be really looking forward to having a break like that?

Ah, well. If it is Bad Mommy, I’m sure the sangria I have in the fridge will make me feel better about it.