Well, somehow we made it back. I do not recommend traveling solo with an infant on a twelve-hour, two-leg journey, but as I said, we made it. Thankfully Jack was really good, minimal crying, maximum charm, and good luck with seatmates who were helpful and sympathetic. But still, no matter how good the baby, it is simply exhausting. He's not big on crying jags, but if he's hungry and I'm too slow he can scream with the best of 'em. At one point, when Jack leaked through his diaper and was screaming for dinner, I managed--oh yes--to change his diaper while breastfeeding. This, for me, is a transcendent mother moment. Not only because of the multi-tasking, but because I managed to do anything while breastfeeding. A few short months ago, I never would have imagined a world where breastfeeding did not involve pain, enormous amounts of pillows, and a huge, sticky mess. Hurray for me!
So we made it, but now it's back to the dull doldrums. Scotland was wonderful, perfect, full of relaxing days, great food, and stimulating adult conversations that didn't revolve around poop. Now, here I am, home all day, alone except for Jack (who hasn't got beyond the bubble-blowing stage yet). I don't have a car; all my friends work, and I'm really isolated here. My brain, which was busy expanding in Scotland, is once again beginning to atrophy. Not good! Changes must be made, but how?
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