Now what...

Holy crap.
My baby girl will be 6 weeks tomorrow. So all working mommys know what that means.
It's back to the grind with you!
You haven't lost enough of the baby weight to wear anything other than maternity jeans, yoga pants, and baggy tops as not to accentuate the rather sizable spare tire that has staked its claim on your midsection. You haven't a been out of the house for longer than a few hours and have not been away from your newborn at all. Come Monday... All bets are off.
Now add to this equation a 3 year old boy who one day is all about potty training and the next is screaming "I don't want to sit on the potty!!! "
I truly don't have a lot of room to complain. My husband and I work opposite shifts. He is a branch manager / vice president of a bank during the week. He also pastors a church.
Our son, JP, has been the picture of a perfect child. He was sleeping thru the night at 6 weeks. He hangs out in his room and plays quietly even if he doesn't take a nap. If he wakes up before I do, he hits his soother and, more often than not, falls back asleep for a bit.
I work at a call center for a prominent lingerie retailer and work a swing shift, getting home about 2am regularly. So we don't need childcare except for the hour between when my shift begins and his ends. Even more, when my mom, who was watching our son 4 days a week, told us she still wanted to watch both the kids once I went back to work, but could only commit to one day a week, and we had an outpouring of such love and support from friends and family. The gaps were quickly filled and we didn't have to explore the option of bringing in someone new to watch our babes.
If there is an ideal way for both parents to work full time, we live it. The kidlets are with a parent all but maybe 2 hours a day!
Now the fun part of our show...
My husband is convinced that our daughter hates him.
She is breast fed for the most part and has been in my arms or asleep on my chest for the last month and a half... Save the last 2 days.
My boss (and friend) invited me out to see a friend's band play last night. I left the house at 10:30pm and was back home at 1:15am. I come back into the house to my husband walking the floor and our daughter, Z, was in his arms, trying to hold herself up even though her trunk is nowhere near strong enough, red-faced and screaming.
It's scenes like this that make me uneasy.
And really wish we could afford for me to stay at home for a few years.
I guess I should ready my breast pump and prepare for my first of many night away from my family.
I can't help but wonder if it's this hard for dads, too.