50 Days

That's the amount of time I've got left at home with Nora. I am awaiting this deadline with dread, because not only does it mean that I will have to separate from her for the majority of our days, but it means that I have to get my head back into work. It seems unfathomable to me that I am choosing to spend 47.5 hours a week away from her (including travel time), when currently I find it difficult to steal even 5. It seems unbelievable also that I will be expected to jump into work mode, as though this past year never happened. The people with whom I will be interacting won't have a clue what a magical year I just had, and I will resent them for it. It might be immature but mea culpa. Nora is the most important thing in my world, bar none.

I know some mothers who have suggested that in order to maintain sanity it is essential to take breaks from motherhood, to leave the baby with someone once in a while and have some time to yourself. My doctor insists upon it, and other people seem to enjoy it too. I don't. Once in a while I'll do something with my husband that Nora wouldn't appreciate, like downhill skiing or a Soundgarden concert, but during those times I'm picturing her tiny face and her wee clapping hands. I can't wait to see her again. And I have had to go to appointments and left her with my mom throughout this past year, which has been ok. When I'm without her, I walk down the street all preoccupied thinking "I am a mom. I have a baby. I have a baby daughter at home. I am her mom" over and over in my head, as though I have to remind myself that nothing is the same as it used to be. I enjoyed Soundgarden, but we're buying baby earmuffs and bringing Nora to Jane's Addiction.

And I know that it will all be fine, that Baby Nora won't be a wee baby forever and that daycare will be good for her. I know that. She's social and she's going to a trusted place, in the care of a very kindly woman I've known for years, spending her days with the children of my good friend. Parents I trust rave about this daycare and I'm really lucky to have won a spot, even though we're only using three out of five days of it. Nora will have two days with Oma (grandma) and then weekends, holidays and (cough cough) sick days with us. She will learn things by leaps and bounds. She will come home at night with new words and new illnesses and new skills. She will have her own set of friends and her own life, independent from us. She will grow and change from a baby into a little kid, and I will just have to be very observant during the two or three hours a day I will spend with her so I can catch her Nora-ness whenever I can.

I miss her already.

She's become such a little monkey. New skills include: eating (certain foods) by herself without choking, clapping her hands, cruising along the furniture, and dancing. She loves to smack the dog lightly on the nose and giggle and play with her CD player and eat anything she finds on the floor, including dead bumblebees and unidentified plant matter (the bumblebee never made it down the hatch). She has lovely soft golden curls and a very mod short little hairdo. She's long and slim with perfectly-shaped ballerina legs and slender piano fingers. Last week we survived our first serious illness – she went from a cough to a spotty viral rash to high fever for three days to a possible double ear infection to an all-over body and face rash and still the cough. It was a rough ride for about a week there, but now she has emerged unscathed and unmedicated. The bottle of amoxicillin sits unopened in the fridge – my week-long insurance policy. Nothing heavier than Tylenol was required. I'm sure this is all just practice for when she starts daycare and gets every single thing that flies around.

There are certain aspects of going back to work that I am looking forward to. I like my co-workers. I anticipate some fun lunch dates and gossip. I can't wait to go out for lunch – the luxury of being able to choose a different kind of cuisine every day will blow my mind for the first little while, as I've been surviving on lunches of crackers and baby food for the past several months. I look forward to dressing like a grown-up again, and I want to go on a wee shopping spree before my return and pick up some basics, because my wardrobe is a bit played out and I am (ahem) a little bit bigger 'round the midriff. Throughout the process of preparing for these renos, I have accumulated two truckloads of stuff to bring to Value Village – and I am being brutal, so I hope to have a sharp pared-down wardrobe when I hang it all back in my new closet.

I have to keep thinking of the silver linings. And the paycheque, always the paycheque.