A few days ago I went to pick up some things at the grocery store, with Nate in tow. I just pushed him in the stroller…he had fallen asleep in the car and stayed asleep while I looked around the store. When we got to the check-out, a woman got in line behind us. Her cart was overflowing with groceries. With one arm, she placed cans and boxes on the conveyor belt. In the crook of her other arm slept a tiny new baby.

“Would you like some help?” I asked her. She was doing a pretty good job with her one free hand, but if that had been me, I sure would have appreciated the offer.

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I’ve got my mom with me,” she answered. “Otherwise I wouldn’t dream of doing such a big shop with this guy!”

“How old is he?” I asked her.

“Three weeks. What about your baby?” she motioned toward my stroller.

“Four months,” I answered.

I stopped to consider this.

Four months.

It seemed impossible that Nate was ever tiny like the little baby she held. Since he slept that soundly in the middle of a store. Since he was brand new. Since I was a brand new mom. Suddenly I felt so seasoned. I didn’t ask the woman if her baby was her first. Maybe this was her second or third or fourth baby. I realized that I’m not a new mom anymore. I know Nate. I know how to take care of him now, what his routine is, what he likes and doesn’t like, when he needs to sleep and when he needs to eat.

It’s such a good feeling, not just feeling confident as a mother, but the realization that having him, being a mother, has given me the opportunity to continue to learn. Sure, I’m not learning academic lessons, but I’m learning a lot of really important skills, valuable skills that I can continue to put to use for years to come…on the job training, so to speak.

Only with this job, the bonuses don’t arrive on an annual basis. They show up every single day.

Things at home are changing.

Nate and I are home. Alone. Without Graham.

Do you know how much easier it is to parent a wiggly almost four-month-old when there are two pairs of arms to handle things? WAY EASIER.

It’s also way easier when one of those pairs of arms is attached to a person who will get up at 7:00 with the baby while I get some more sleep.

But we are surviving, the two of us. Nathan’s asleep in his swing right now.

I have had a shower and a coffee, two things that make the whole day glimmer in a new light.

Oh, who am I kidding? We are more than surviving. One look at that little face and I am smitten.

I have a new post up at Aiming Low today. In it, I reveal my secret recipe for scalloped potatoes. Or not.

Also, I’d love it if you would become a fan of Assertagirl on Facebook!

Graham and I had a little bottle of champagne left over from our wedding three and a half years ago. (Contrary to popular opinion, we’re not big drinkers.) This morning that bottle of champagne became birthday mimosas!

Thank you, Graham, for a lovely birthday breakfast and for the cuddles with Nate this morning. I have a feeling 33 is going to be a great year.

In Nate’s room, the closet doors are mirrored. When we decided to install mirrored sliders instead of traditional doors on the closet, our intention was to make the room seem bigger, brighter. There’s been an unexpected perk to having those mirrored doors, though.

Late at night…so late it’s actually early, when I open the door to Nate’s little room in response to his panicked, gassy or hungry cries, I get a glimpse of myself in the very act of mothering. In the dimly lit room I sway and rock my little baby son, me in my pajamas, a blanket wrapped lovingly around him, trying desperately to soothe him. We’re a blur together there in that mirror, sometimes because I’m tired, sometimes because my eyes are glazed with tears. And at other times, when the daylight has crept in, we stand and look together into the mirror, into the reflection of one another’s eyes, and I am rewarded with a sunny little smile. The blurry images of the previous night are shoved away into the darker corners of the room, where they wait until the next night to dance with us again.

The resemblance is uncanny, don’t you think?