Tomorrow, I leave my baby for two whole weeks. And he is likely coming down with HFM disease. But let’s back up.

We’ve moved! If you follow us on Instagram (@allthefinn), you know that we’ve been settling into our new home for the past two weeks. The move is mostly to blame for my absence around here–coupled with a pretty hectic summer teaching schedule and my prepping for a 2-week graduate program in North Carolina.

Who am I kidding? This blog is like an old best friend; let’s call her Sally. She was a riot before the baby. We’d have spontaneous meet-ups pre-baby, talking about all of our wild plans for the future and downing a pitcher of white sangria. We were a BLAST.

Then, life happened. And now, Sally and I are lucky to get in a quick phone conversation, which is always, inevitably, interrupted by a whining baby or a FedEx delivery or an annoyingly insistent oven timer.

I’m sorry, Sally. I’ll do better.

The move was rather uneventful. Though, the weeks leading up to the move were mired in chaos, and I’m hoping not to have to relive them for at least another decade.

The good news is that we really, really love our new home. Sure, there are still a few odd boxes in the corner. Our master bath is still without a vanity or a mirror or light fixtures. We’re teetering on the edge of a breakdown each time the brand-new-post-reno-money-suck of a floor gets scratched. And I haven’t the faintest clue how to operate our new washing machine. (Okay, the latter isn’t really that much of a problem, seeing as how Sona does the laundry, anyway).

But mostly, we are very happy to be in a larger space–one without a labyrinth of boxes.

And Finn seems really happy, too. Part of the chaos of the weeks leading up to the move can be blamed on that little guy. He was kind of a nightmare, but I guess he earned it.

His whole world was changing. Any small place spaces he had in our old apartment were taken over by piles of boxes. Everything was in a state of transition. He could probably sense that his mommas were ready to knife someone at any given moment. And he had the worst case of diaper rash I have ever seen.

Like, they don’t adequately prepare you for the horror that is a real diaper rash during those pretty inane child-rearing classes. We’re talking open, angry sores on his bum. It was awful, and it lasted for a couple of weeks.

So, yeah, he wasn’t his happiest. And, in turn, we weren’t our happiest, either.

Yet, after just a few days getting used to our new home, Finn has completely turned a corner. It’s like he looked at our wide-open living space, which is more than double the size we had before, and thought, “Hell, yeah. I’m going to tear this place up.” It was a motivating mission, and he’s since started crawling, standing, banging, and damn-near speed-racing down our hallways.

My mom said he’d start moving as soon as he had the space to do it, and she was right.

Sadly, tomorrow, I have to say goodbye to my little guy (and Sona, too) for two weeks, as I’m leaving for a graduate/professional program in Boone, North Carolina. I’ve been half dreading and half looking forward to this trip for months. On one hand, it’s something I really need to do to give my professional and personal self a jump-start. My head hasn’t exactly been in the game, this past year, and I’m hoping this will help give me a boost.

On the other, I’m a bit weak in the knees at the thought of leaving Finn for that long. In the long run, he won’t remember it. I know this. But I will.

We are a little too attached, the two of us. It’s a bit of a problem, actually. Though, it’s the kind of problem I don’t mind having.

So, ultimately, I think the time apart will be good for us, but I’m feeling pretty guilty about it, still. Most of my guilt comes from leaving Sona, who has wholeheartedly supported my going. I don’t think I could single-mom it for that long. At least, not without my fair share of alcohol. It’s going to be tough on her, but my parents are coming to stay for a week to weaken the blow.

To make matters worse, Finn’s nanny share mate was diagnosed with HFM disease, yesterday. They were together all week, and it’s pretty likely that he will fall victim, next.

He already has some blisters on his bum and is drooling quite a bit–two early signs.

So, yeah. Not great timing, but I know there’s never a good time for this kind of thing. Now, we’re just hoping than none of us get sick, too.

I really don’t want to walk into program orientation, tomorrow, explaining that my professional peers shouldn’t come within two feet of my pock-marked face. Then again, it could make for a good excuse, should my dorm-mate prove to be a little too chatty.

I’ll do my best to post from North Carolina. I imagine that I’ll be spending a lot of time, sitting on my extra long twin-sized dorm bed, laptop in hand. (Can you sense my enthusiasm?)

Until then, send a little prayer to the HFM gods for us, will you?  We need it.