Someone get the WD-40

He used to gurgle and coo, twisting his tongue around to create new sounds. He spoke to me earnestly, punctuated with exclamatory squeals. We would have a full conversation every evening when we got home after day care (him) and work (me). Then he fell quiet. Or relatively quiet. The crying, of course, continues loudly enough. But the conversations stopped a couple of weeks ago.

The Munch spent most of the day squeaking. He's bored with the tongue movements, and is now exploring the upper ranges allowed by his tiny vocal cords. He's had a hoarse voice since he cried himself to sleep on Monday and Tuesday nights. His voice was just beginning to repair when he started on this high pitch obsession. We will see how long it lasts. I wonder if tomorrow he will swing the other way, and we'll find ourselves with a little Edward James Olmos on our hands.

In other news, I quit my job last week. It was a surprisingly hard decision to make, and I still somehow doubt that I am actually doing this - giving up a perfectly good paycheck and a perfectly civil job in favor of diapers and full-time squeaking. Or grunting. I was home with him full time only five weeks ago, and yet I can no longer imagine what it was like. How did we manage to pass the time? How did I keep myself entertained? Why the heck am I doing this? I don't exacly know the answer. I just fear that I will regret not taking this time to grow with the M. I am signing up for a new life of mommyhood, with all of its accompanying obsessions and complications.

This is particularly hard because I have never seen myself as a stay-at-home-mom. Nope, not for me. I mean, I have ambitions. I am a professional. I am an achiever. I can't give up my independence... Oh shit, I am signing up for a full-time identity crisis.

This will be good for me. But I am going to need a lot of reassurance along the way.