Separation anxiety (in reverse)
I'm back at business as usual. Today was my first day at work, boys and girls. The big morning. It's funny to think i hadn't had a single sleepless night in something like 15 months. Baby nights don't count. Nights of crying and soothing and feeding are different, because you tend to your baby in a sort of drunken yet lucid stupor. I'm talking about true shakes here, tossing and turning in bed, not breathing right, not finding the good position to rest, feeling guilty and a little nervous and overwhelmed by, well, life and its lively events.

I cried myself into bed. There was nothing anyone could say to me to get that awful feeling out of my chest. All i could think of for the entire Sunday was that i'd be leaving Bruno behind, which might be all right for him (he gets to grin at his grandma for the entire evening -a fave activity) but it was a devastating thought for me. Pablo would come over and hug me, and every time i rationalized it, knowing i shouldn't be crying. But the tears were just screaming to get out. Getting Muffin's bottle ready, putting out his clothes for the next morning, wondering if i'd cope. Crying for babs and for myself.

After the flood and the restless night i woke up this morning and slipped into the First Day At Work Outfit. Note to self: Don't wear killer heels on your first day at work. Second note to self: Don't wear those killer heels. Ever. Again. I splashed the make up on, ate my lipstick about six minutes after applying it and proceeded to the office.

It's an old building near the posher-than-posh district in Madrid. The job is interesting, it can be hard but it will mostly be light and the people seem extremely nice. Psycopaths and/or future lifetime friends are yet to be discovered. The office comes with a kitchen, which is not that common in my work history, and i shall soon fill it up with tuppered chicken, avocado sandwiches and hearty coffee conversations.

It was an ok day all along. Except for a while this afternoon when i had to bite my lip and not roll on the carpet laughing at coworker for repeatedly explaining to me that the computer technicians had to "find the HTLM code for the table". She kept on saying it. HeichteeElem. HTLM. Am i geek or is that just really funny? Or maybe i was just nervous: sitting there with my killer heels, my pitch black circles around the eyes and a baby far, far away from me.