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Last time I wrote, I was searching for the perfect stroller. All that grueling research really did pay off: I am obsessed with my silver Easy Walker. I won’t bore with you with all the reasons why, but let’s just say the only thing this bad boy can’t do is change my son’s dirty diapers. They’re working on that for 2010.

The Great Stroller Debate seems like a lifetime ago, maybe because it was. I became a mother on August 29, and it was nothing short of spectacular. Not that it should surprise anyone—after all, I birthed a 7 pound, 5 ounce human being. The science of it alone is completely fascinating, but the real miracle is I have myself a perfect child. Preston Wolf, named after both his late maternal and paternal great-grandfathers, came out totally unscathed, thanks in part to my scheduled C-section. For the uninitiated, C-section babies don’t usually look all smooshed and mangled since they don’t have to pass through the birth canal, and therefore aren’t subjected to forceps and other unpleasant methods of squeezing the baby out. In Preston’s case, this meant a perfectly round head and blemish-free skin.

New moms will want to shoot me for saying this, but I am also fortunate to have a baby who isn’t fussy. I can’t believe I just said that out loud. I swear I’m not bragging, only telling the truth. My kid also sleeps 11 hours at night, and takes at least three naps during the day, the longest one being three hours. And the kicker is, we haven’t started “sleep training” him yet—at this rate, we won’t have to. Yup, I said it, I have a good sleeper. And to make matters worse, he’s a good eater too…at least he is so far, while he’s still on formula (let’s not jinx anything). Not to toot my own horn, but he also happens to be gorgeous. Can I admit that? He’s the cutest baby I’ve ever laid eyes on, for real. I would say that even if he weren’t mine. He’s got these big green-brown eyes, brownish-blonde hair (what he has of it), perfect skin, and has the most infectious smile. And he’s tall. Like, going to Harvard on a basketball scholarship tall. Hey, I’m just telling it like it is.

In the three-and-a-half months since having him, I’ve learned these are not things you’re supposed to admit to other moms. When new moms get together, they’re supposed to complain to each other about how hard it is, about the lack of sleep they’re getting, about what dead-beats their husbands are, about how miserable life has become. Just try Googling “mommy bloggers” and you’ll see there’s an entire universe of kvetching going on.

But none of that is true for me. For one, my husband is home with the baby two days a week—he’s got a very understanding boss, i.e. him. And he’s as good with the baby as I am—sometimes I think he’s better. We also got lucky and hired a terrific nanny for the other three days—so terrific, in fact, she brought us a kosher challah on her first day of work, from the Breadsmith in Skokie where her husband works. (If we’re keeping score, she’s a 10 in our book.) And though returning to work a couple weeks ago full time was very tough on me, especially after my blissful 12-week maternity leave-slash-vacation, it really wasn’t as hard as I was anticipating. I happen to like my job and the people I work with, so if I have to be away from my child, it’s not the worst place on earth to be.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure I should admit that either.

But don’t worry, I am well aware of the fact that I am totally screwed for baby no. 2. No one gets this lucky twice. In the meantime, I’ll continue bragging about motherhood here. Tune in every other week to see if I really have it that good.

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