Parenting without adult supervision means there is nothing in your fridge.

If you looked in my fridge you would see Hershey Kisses, Girl Scout cookies, bread, Mickey Finns, Snowcaps, bottles of formula, and some cheese. It may not surprise you that this morning my mother left Ireland and returned to the US. Her visit was unbelievably helpful and instead of being thrown into parenthood headfirst I was given the option of going in the shallow end with swimmies clinging to my arms.

Because of her visit and help, my son and I are incredibly comfortable with each other. I still can’t read his signals -- I don’t know why he yells a lot of the time, but I wouldn't doubt if he is trying to start his own language not by using consonants and vowels but volume and pitch -- but I am slowly learning his routine and working around it. This is making both of our lives a little easier and today, the second time I have been alone with him for a full day since he was born, I kept my cool and acted like a real adult with responsibility. I kept my shit together and I’m damn proud of myself. Then I took a nap.

Now, I have to man-up to my other responsibilities. I have made a vow to make sure to make dinner while Bub is given Mister Man his 6pm feeding. This would requiring having more than chocolate, cheese and booze in your fridge. Tomorrow will involve the adult-like duties of food shopping, buying some more baby equipment for our child’s well-being, planning out our weekend with my visiting friend Margaret (yay!), filing my taxes, and buying Twilight on blu-ray because my highest priority for tomorrow is to see this man sparkle in high-def.

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Liz in Dublin