Flying Solo

Jude left yesterday to attend a conference in Washington, D.C., so I'm flying solo with John Patrick for a couple of nights. I think the last time it was just the two of us, overnight, was when Jude attended Barrack Obama's inauguration, last January.

As I drove to work this morning, I chuckled to myself as I considered how things just don't seem to run as smoothly when Jude is not around. For example, after I got John Patrick up and dressed, we strolled down to Bongo Java to eat breakfast. After I arrived and got my coffee, we took a seat at a table outside. At that point, I realized not only had I forgotten his bib, I'd also forgotten a baby spoon for his yogurt. Making do with what was nearby, I tucked a paper napkin in his shirt and fed him with a plastic spoon. Of course, the spoon was too big to fit into his mouth, but we managed.

We strolled back home and met our nanny, Carley, there. After talking with her for a few minutes, I went upstairs to get dressed for work. A few minutes later, I came downstairs, said goodbye to John Patrick, and walked out the front door. It was at that point I realized I hadn't shaved. Showered - yes. Dressed - yes. Shaved - no. Classy.

Tonight, I cooked spaghetti for my mom, and Alice (my cousin) and Dell Walker. We had a great visit. John Patrick was in rare form, making faces at my mom and entertaining us all. After they left, I followed him upstairs (he likes to climb the stairs himself these days), so I could get him ready for bed and feed him a bottle. I turned on an ipod I have in his room and selected an old playlist on it to listen to while I changed his diaper and put on his pajamas.

He was on the changing table, staring up at me and babbling, when "Falling Slowly," a song from "Once," one of my favorite movies, came on the ipod. The song and the movie mean a great deal to me, for a variety of reasons. As the song played and I smiled down at my son, I found myself in the middle of one of those amazing, fleeting moments you want to last forever. It was a little bittersweet, too, because I knew it was one of those moments I'll always remember, long after it's passed, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing, when I hear that song.

Sometimes, like tonight, when I watch my son, when it's just the two of us, it almost seems like a dream I don't want to wake up from. I feel so lucky and blessed that he's in my life. It gets harder and harder, in some ways, to remember what it was like before he came into my life. It's almost like I've lived two lives - the one before he was born and the one after he was born. I don't know if that makes sense.