was an activity that was almost as familiar as brushing her teeth. Or at least it had been, once upon a time, before she became a mother. Now she felt restless, despite participating in an activity that usually chilled her out. It was because Macy wasn't with her.
"Do you know this is the first time I've done anything without the baby?" she asked. "It feels weird."
Amy refilled Carla's coffee mug then set the insulated carafe on a trivet on the table. "The first time? She's over four months old."
"I know how old my daughter is." That was rude. Apparently, having one-sided conversations with a baby who could only respond with squeals and giggles had adversely affected her social skills. "I'm sorry. Mom surprised me by coming over and taking Macy for a playdate at her apartment. It was a spur of the moment thing for all of us. Who would've thought I needed time to mentally prepare for taking a break away from the baby."
Amy drummed her fingers on the side of her coffee mug. "You know I seem to be missing the motherhood gene, so I may be way off base here, but do you think maybe it would be good for you to go back to work?"
Carla ran her fingers through her short hair. The no-fuss, wash-and-go hairstyle that Amy had given her for a breezy summer cut almost a year earlier had turned out to be perfect for motherhood too. The only way she could shower when Bruce wasn't home was to set Macy in her bouncy seat in the bathroom. The sound of the hair dryer scared the baby though, so towel-dried locks were the name of the game. How would she get ready for work every day when she was lucky if she could shower before dinnertime? "I've had a lot of time to think during all of the 2 a.m. feedings. I do crave interacting with people, but I can't go back to the ER. There's no way I could deal with all of the trauma anymore, especially when it's inflicted by other people, then come home and be a good mom."
Amy dunked a cookie in her coffee and took a bite. She stared out the window facing the driveway. Her mouth twitched a few times as though she wanted to say something but stopped herself. Finally, she said, "I get it. You don't want to bring residual stress and other bad stuff home to Macy. But if you feel like you want to get back to your career, what about a less stressful nursing job, like at a doctor's office?"
It had been several months since she'd had a heart-to-heart conversation with Amy, yet her best friend had the precision of a championship dart player. Bull's-eye. "You're right. But I don't know if I want to put Macy in daycare which is basically a petri dish of germs and viruses. Just because I'm bored, is it fair of me to expose her to all kinds of illnesses?"
"I'm sorry." Amy placed her hand over her heart. "I can't help with those things. In the end, going back to work is your decision, and I don't know how to help steer you in the right direction. I've never had to make a decision like that myself. I wish I could make it easier by offering to take care of Macy, but the thought of babysitting is scarier than trying fermented seafood."
Carla plucked another cookie off the platter sitting between them. She wasn't a foodie. And her mind was perpetually foggy courtesy of baby-induced sleep deprivation. Amy's analogy was so far over her head the thing needed a parachute. "One—I didn't know there was fermented seafood. And two—why is it scary to eat?"
"The Swedish fermented herring. I guess it's one of the foulest smells ever when someone opens a can of it. Can you imagine what it tastes like? On top of that, there is always a possibility of getting botulism if something goes wrong in the fermentation process with meat. So that stuff is scary on so many levels. Just like I have more layers of fear than a croissant about babysitting."
How did Amy even know about the fermented herring? That couldn't be common knowledge—obscure European food traditions. She was like a walking encyclopedia of food facts. "It's okay. I
"Do you know this is the first time I've done anything without the baby?" she asked. "It feels weird."
Amy refilled Carla's coffee mug then set the insulated carafe on a trivet on the table. "The first time? She's over four months old."
"I know how old my daughter is." That was rude. Apparently, having one-sided conversations with a baby who could only respond with squeals and giggles had adversely affected her social skills. "I'm sorry. Mom surprised me by coming over and taking Macy for a playdate at her apartment. It was a spur of the moment thing for all of us. Who would've thought I needed time to mentally prepare for taking a break away from the baby."
Amy drummed her fingers on the side of her coffee mug. "You know I seem to be missing the motherhood gene, so I may be way off base here, but do you think maybe it would be good for you to go back to work?"
Carla ran her fingers through her short hair. The no-fuss, wash-and-go hairstyle that Amy had given her for a breezy summer cut almost a year earlier had turned out to be perfect for motherhood too. The only way she could shower when Bruce wasn't home was to set Macy in her bouncy seat in the bathroom. The sound of the hair dryer scared the baby though, so towel-dried locks were the name of the game. How would she get ready for work every day when she was lucky if she could shower before dinnertime? "I've had a lot of time to think during all of the 2 a.m. feedings. I do crave interacting with people, but I can't go back to the ER. There's no way I could deal with all of the trauma anymore, especially when it's inflicted by other people, then come home and be a good mom."
Amy dunked a cookie in her coffee and took a bite. She stared out the window facing the driveway. Her mouth twitched a few times as though she wanted to say something but stopped herself. Finally, she said, "I get it. You don't want to bring residual stress and other bad stuff home to Macy. But if you feel like you want to get back to your career, what about a less stressful nursing job, like at a doctor's office?"
It had been several months since she'd had a heart-to-heart conversation with Amy, yet her best friend had the precision of a championship dart player. Bull's-eye. "You're right. But I don't know if I want to put Macy in daycare which is basically a petri dish of germs and viruses. Just because I'm bored, is it fair of me to expose her to all kinds of illnesses?"
"I'm sorry." Amy placed her hand over her heart. "I can't help with those things. In the end, going back to work is your decision, and I don't know how to help steer you in the right direction. I've never had to make a decision like that myself. I wish I could make it easier by offering to take care of Macy, but the thought of babysitting is scarier than trying fermented seafood."
Carla plucked another cookie off the platter sitting between them. She wasn't a foodie. And her mind was perpetually foggy courtesy of baby-induced sleep deprivation. Amy's analogy was so far over her head the thing needed a parachute. "One—I didn't know there was fermented seafood. And two—why is it scary to eat?"
"The Swedish fermented herring. I guess it's one of the foulest smells ever when someone opens a can of it. Can you imagine what it tastes like? On top of that, there is always a possibility of getting botulism if something goes wrong in the fermentation process with meat. So that stuff is scary on so many levels. Just like I have more layers of fear than a croissant about babysitting."
How did Amy even know about the fermented herring? That couldn't be common knowledge—obscure European food traditions. She was like a walking encyclopedia of food facts. "It's okay. I
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