I’m not going to lie, for a while, I was having a hard time with the transition on coming back to work. I could tell Jack was confused between mom and me, since we’re both around him so often. It felt like my only job was being the Milk Lady. Nothing more, nothing less.

It broke my heart when he smiled at my mom and not at me. It made me feel guilty for having to leave him every day to go to work.

Now that he’s well on his way to becoming a big kid, Jack can recognize me and is able to differentiate between my mom, Jeff and me. In fact, he has taken a liking in trying to rip my lips off my face out of curiosity. But it’s when the kid reaches for my face and plants an open-mouth drooly kiss on my cheek that makes my role as mom worth each and every sleepness night.

I love the way that he ‘gets’ who we are now. He knows the “Jackson” song Jeff sings to him every afternoon. He knows when to “sing” along with my mom when she rocks him to nap. He knows that I put him to bed every night to his sleepy tunes. He smiles when I pick him up to chit chat after I get home from work.

And as I read in an old article from Time Magazine, The baby’s smile is also a kind of judgment on the care that its mother has been providing.

But, If there’s any change to our routine, it always ends in tearful wails for me, the mom.

After many sleepless nights and overcoming the bitterness of being the sole food provider, my kid knows who I am. I’m not just the Milk Lady any more!

I may be babbling out of exhaustion, but with the babe growing at warp speed, I can’t help but feel nostalgic for his newborn days.

It was one of those early morning feeding sessions a few months ago, when Jack was still a newborn and we were still trying to get a hang of nursing. I fed him from bed at night because that’s what worked best for us.

Or so I thought.

You must know, I married the Loudest Snorer on Earth. I know he can’t help it. I love him with all of my heart, but my man snores louder than a slow moving train.

So, after feeding the baby during that twilight hour, I tried to shush him back to sleep, hoping to mask the locomotively loud snoring next to us.

No go.

That night, with each rumbling snore, the baby’s eyes would pop open.

baby awake.

baby awake.

baby awake.

Exhausted by lack of sleep, frustrated by my newness and overwhelmed with a flood of hormones, I did what any crazy person would do.

I barked at my equally exhausted husband:


Clearly, he could not.

I could have easily gone to the living room, but in a place as small as ours, there was no escaping the snores. This went on for another 2 hours. With each passing hour, I did what I could to restrain myself from plucking my husband in the head to make the snoring stop.

The snoring eventually stopped long enough for the baby to fall asleep. I don’t think I ever got much sleep that night, but all’s well that ends well.

We’re a few months removed and a lifetime away from those rage-filled moments of weakness. Despite the bags under my eyes that say otherwise, I can happily report that our sleeping routine is much more predictable with Jack going to bed at 7:30 p.m. and waking at 5:30 a.m. Jack isn’t sleeping through the night quite yet, but the night feedings have become easier (dare I say it) and wonderful moments of bonding.

And you know what, I look forward to those moments where it’s just the two of us–the Milk Lady and her boy.