the little things Archives - Page 3 of 7

Jan 29

letting go (a little bit)

Jan 29

I’m gonna skip the part where I apologize for the lengthy absence. You know the drill – work, baby, vacuuming endless piles of dog hair, sleep, etc, etc. I thought keeping up with my blog would be easy but as it turns out…not so easy.

But with drama looming on the horizon, I’m back! Ok, drama might be too strong a word. Let’s call it “growing.” Let’s call it “progress.”

Here’s what happened: I started planning a weekend visit with two friends who I only get to see maybe once a year, if that. One of these friends lives in Boston, which is a pretty cool city, so we decided to go visit her there. She is a fitness instructor (I mean, part-time, in addition to her full-time job, because she’s an animal!) and my other friend is really into working out too, so we decided it would be fun to take her class as part of our weekend. As a gym newbie, I’m a little scared, but it’s better than planning to just sit around sipping cocktails and eating bagels, right? (I mean, we’ll probably do that too, but at least it will somewhat balance out if we burn a bajillion calories beforehand).

The more we started throwing around the phrase “girl’s weekend,” the more I started to realize that the trip wouldn’t necessarily be kid-friendly. My initial daydreams about our get-together included a smiling, bouncy baby playing on the floor as everyone oohed and aahed. I pictured myself dropping her off with a little wave at the gym’s daycare while I took the crazy intense workout class. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that this scenario was probably not realistic. My friends are both young professionals, and I’m doubting they want to be in bed by 7 like Molly does. Going to dinner and drinks at 5pm to accomodate her schedule? Probably not their idea of a great time.

After a few planning emails back and forth we decided that it was probably best that I not bring the baby. The gym where my friend teaches doesn’t even have a daycare, so if I did bring her, I wouldn’t be able to take the class – ostensibly the whole point of the trip. I panicked for a moment and considered cancelling. I’ve never, in her entire short life, spent a night apart from my baby girl! But then I took a deep breath, put on my big girl panties, and asked Eric if he could handle a weekend alone with Miss Molly. He answered with a very serious, “Well I am the girl’s father, aren’t I?”

Truth be told, I think this could be a very good thing. Molly is very clingy to me…but only when she knows I’m in the vicinity. That’s why Eric hisses “Don’t you dare walk by that door!” when he’s in the nursery rocking her to sleep. The moment she sees me, she goes into full-on meltdown mode until I pick her up. So… I think a weekend of bonding with daddy could be great for both of them. And you know what else? I think it could be great for ME.

The closest thing I have to equate this to is our morning routine. Molly usually wakes up around 5/5:30 but my alarm doesn’t go off until 6. Eric gets up at 5:30 and lets the dogs out, then comes back inside and makes his coffee, and then heads back into the bedroom to rescue me. By 5:45, Molly is usually singing/babbling to herself, idly kicking my arm, and shoving her fingers up my nose while I pretend I’m still sleeping. Every morning he picks her up and brings her out to the living room and for 15 glorious minutes, I sleep. I sleep the sleep of a mom who isn’t listening for her baby to cry, who isn’t bunching her pillow up tightly so it doesn’t suffocate the sleeping child next to her, who isn’t tensed up and ready to keep her huband (or dog or self) from rolling onto the aforementioned child who has decided that after midnight, she absolutely must be transferred into mommy and daddy’s bed (Her crib is acceptable between 7 and midnight, but after that, not so much). It’s not real sleep, or REM sleep, but it’s something. It’s “I can let go now” sleep.

I’m picturing a whole weekend of sleep like this, and of just…existing like this. Sure, I go to work every day, and technically that’s a “break” from being a mom, but at work I have to… work. Since I’ve had her, I haven’t had any significant amount of leisure time that didn’t involve my daughter. That’s mostly by design, because if I’m not at work, she is hands down my favorite person to hang out with. BUT, at the same time, it could be interesting/invigorating to have a whole weekend of just being Amanda again. And surely a happier Amanda, because it’s not the doom-and-gloom Amanda terrified that she’ll never get to be a mom. I’ll rest easy knowing that I get to be a mom again in 48 hours. What could be better?

I’m sure I’ll be worried, but at the same time, I’ll know she’s in capable hands. I’m very lucky that Eric knows what to do (even if I’m the one who usually does it). He knows how to feed her, and entertain her, and get her to sleep. I may be the default parent, but he definitely knows what he’s doing. And if he does get overwhelmed, he has his parents, my parents, my sister, and his sisters all within a 5 mile radius. There’s just no reason for me to NOT go.

I plan on driving there, so if I freak out with separation anxiety and have to cancel at the last minute (or make a U-turn the minute I arrive), I can without any lost money due to cancelled airline tickets or whatever. But I don’t think that I will.

I’m part of a private mom’s group on Facebook and I got a lot of great feedback when I posted about this issue – it seemed like there were two sides: 1) OMG I COULD NEVER LEAVE MY BABY and 2) Ugh, I would kill for a girl’s weekend. Anyone wanna go to Vegas? Up until we started planning this trip I definitely considered myself part of group one. But now that I’m going, I’m excited to be going. Does that make sense? Has anyone else had a similar situation?

In other news… not much going on. Working, living, hanging out. Still working my butt off in the gym but getting impatient about not seeing results fast enough (especially in light of this trip, with two of the fittest people I know). I have two months to step up my game.

I’ll leave you with some pictures of the little princess. I told her she’s growing up too quickly and she better stop it or else, but she didn’t seem to listen…

she can stand now (but still won’t do it for mommy, only for Aunt Ashley)

what can I say? the kid loves grocery shopping

her cousin Addi is probably her second favorite person in the world

her favorite toy, and we don’t have the heart to tell her its for ages 2 and up

yes… 7 months old now….

future Disney star?

toys are so exciting!!

this mirror tells her she’s pretty…

…and she loves it.

Dec 17

why can’t we be friends?

Dec 17

Please, allow me to indulge my inner 13-year-old for a moment.

So far, everything has been going swimmingly with my new job. The organic cafe is amazing, the work is manageable, I’m just busy enough that the day flies by but I’m not overwhelmed, and I just signed up for personal training so I can begin to tackle the ginormous task of getting my pre-baby, pre-infertility body back… it’s good. All good. Except for this one thing.

I have no friends.

I know, I’m 30 years old, and this sounds ridiculous. This is ridiculous. But if you think about it, the people you work with are the people you spend the majority of the day with. It’s nice to get along with them. It’s nice to have people to joke with, to commiserate with, to eat lunch with.

This isn’t my first time having a hard go of it. Way back in the day, I switched to private school going into my freshmen year of high school – voluntarily – hoping that I could have a second chance at finding my place in the pecking order. (I’m not sure if my parents even knew what my motivation really was. I insisted on switching from public school to Catholic school, possibly claiming some sort of religious epiphany, when really all I wanted was to fit in.) I was looking for a fresh start, with no nerdy pre-teen, pimply-faced, awkward phase prejudices. Now, the fact that I strode in to that first day of freshmen orientation with dyed bright red hair and blonde bangs like Ginger Spice probably should have clued me in that I was never going to part of the in-crowd, but I digress…

who let me out of the house like this?

I expected everyone to be new like I was. I stupidly did not consider that only a handful of middle schools fed into that high school, and that everyone already knew everyone (even between the different schools, somehow), and that the cliques were already firmly established. To break in I would have needed to be really, really cool (and I really, really wasn’t). I wound up exactly where I was before transferring schools – somewhere on the fringes. Not a loser, per se, but not one of the cool kids, either. Simply there. Non-existent in the eyes of the socially accepted.

That was high school, and I’ve come a long way. (For example, I’ve finally figured out that blonde bangs and red hair are not an attractive combination). But I have another example of a time I expected an even playing field and was unpleasantly surprised. When I started working at Coach, they had literally just built the store. I was part of the opening crew of people. So imagine my shock and disdain when I walked into that first employee meeting, expecting a bunch of people who needed to get to know each other, and instead found that everyone had already been working together for years (at another store). I found out that day that the retail mall world is small, and generally mall employees migrate from store to store in groups. Annoying! Luckily, with a little wit and sarcasm, they welcomed me into the fold (eventually).

I have a hard time making friends, but once I do, I usually keep them around for life. I still talk with the girls who I worked with at my first “real” (full time, corporate, post-college) job in 2006. I’ve been to the weddings of most of those Coach friends, and we still keep in touch and half-heartedly try to plan a (probably-never-going-to-actually-happen) brunch. I married my boss from my first job ever! I love my work friends. Clearly.

So that’s my excessively long preamble to introduce the fact that so far, I have no friends at work (besides my former coworker and carpool buddy, who is in a different department and on a different floor in a different building, so I’m not counting him for the purposes of this rant). I know it’s only been a short time. But I think the frustrating thing is that I work with a team of women, and at my last job where I worked with all women (at the daily deals site) we ended up being really close friends. Again, they are people I keep in touch with to this day. Plus, it seems like the girls at work do have that… I’m just not a part of it.

I guess it just doesn’t feel promising. They all go to lunch and sit together, so I tried going at the same time. I’m not proud to admit this, but the one day I intentionally sat alone at a table in plain view of their table and broke out my Nook. I was testing the waters to see if they would invite me over to sit with them. Lo and behold, they did! But then things got awkward.

They waved me over, so that was cool, but I’m not really good at interjecting myself into conversations and no one really asked me any questions, so the whole experience wound up being me, at a table, listening to other people talk. Like a creepy lurker. And I wish I could say this has only happened the one time, but so far it’s happened several times, basically whenever I have occasion to sit near them. There’s lots of talking, but I’m never contributing, just listening. I try really, really hard to think of things to add, but when I do say something, the conversation sort of dies right there before moving on to other things.

I wish I was more like my husband, who is really outgoing and good at making friends everywhere he goes. He’s great at parties and in potentially uncomfortable social settings. Me? I’m just..not. I need to be prodded, and then maybe I’ll have a really funny comment or observation, but I’ll probably stutter or make a face or (unintentionally) roll my eyes or lisp or something, because I’m really only good with people I feel comfortable with, or when I’m writing instead of speaking. Basically, I need the other person to take the reins and do all the work in those initial stages, and then I’ll be like, the best friend ever. But The Cool Posse already has their members, and as far as I can tell, they don’t seem to be recruiting.

Yes, I’m sure this awkward loneliness is temporary, and I’ll probably find a friend (maybe?). But for now it’s very frustrating. My desk is a little bit separate from everyone else (across an aisle), but our cubes are all open, so often I feel like a voyeur just observing their jovial camaraderie. I wish life came with a sticker or a merit badge that could just prove that yes, I’m worth getting to know and should be included in the conversation. I’m not just some stage 5 creeper looking wistfully over from the far corner (which, I’m assuming, is part of my problem. I know the first rule of being cool is to act like you really don’t care at all).

I realize how ridiculous this post is. I also assume that if any of my new coworkers were to read this, they would really think I was nuts, and they would also probably say that no one wants to talk to someone who does nothing but obsess over people liking them.

In sort of related news, I started working out during lunch at the company gym! I’m baby stepping in with just 2 days a week and seeing how it goes. I really, really like the trainer (who made me a customized program), especially since she doesn’t seem to think I’m crazy. Not even when I started emailing her bikini pictures of my half-starved and basically emaciated body from 2008 and telling her that was my “goal weight.” Ha!

That mostly solves my lunchtime dilemma. Besides that, I guess I’ll just keep being creepy and watching everyone else have fun. There’s a Christmas party (for just my team, not the whole company) next Monday that I’m sort of dreading. It can either be my way in, or yet another awkward few hours (but this time with no shield of actual work to do). I’m not even sure if there will be alcohol and I don’t want to be “that girl” who asks. The alcohol could also go either way – very well (“Amanda is so fun and charming!”) or very badly (“Why is Amanda trying to breastfeed that lamp?”)

Stay tuned!

Dec 11

waiting for Molly (a TBT special)

Dec 11

I think I’ve mentioned before that I used to blog anonymously about infertility. Eventually I ended that blog and started BBT with intention of “keeping things light” and not talking about infertility at all.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

Anywayyyyy…the other day I randomly got a new subscriber to my old blog (and person, if you’re reading this, prepare to be disappointed!). Totally weird, since I haven’t posted there since 2011. But it did prompt me to go back and re-read some of my old (fantastically heartbreaking) posts.

I was SO miserable. The sadness seeps out through every word. And while it’s fairly obvious (and probably fairly annoying) that I’m happy a lot of the time now, reading those old posts just reaffirmed how much everything has changed. I can’t believe how different I am these days.

And then I stumbled across this post, and it made me feel all the feels, so I thought I would share it with you here (on Throwback Thursday, of course).

If anyone out there is still waiting for their miracle…you never know. You just never know what’s 3.5 years down the road.

Waiting for Molly

(original post date: May 12th, 2011)

Back before we were married, before we were seriously dating, even before we were officially “a couple” – we named our daughter.

I remember thinking to myself it was strange at the time. Strange that a 20-something man would be so willing to discuss future baby names so soon. Strange that with our opposite taste, we could actually reach an agreement on a name. And eventually, strange that once she had a name, she became real.

I vaguely remember the conversation, and I also remember discussing a slew of names before excitedly discovering that one girls name, out of hundreds, seemed to fit us perfectly. This was not a name simply chosen at random, it was the product of an intensely serious conversation that bordered on argument. After that was settled, we started to offhandedly refer to her in conversation. “I really hope Molly has your hair, mine is too thin”… “I’m pretty sure Molly is going to have your dimples, too”… “If Molly has ADD as bad as you do, I’m going to need some Prozac” …and so on. Without meaning to, or trying to, Molly took on a life of her own before our eyes.

When we broke up, I thought about Molly, or rather, the lack of Molly. Because without the two of us, she could never be. If we had never reunited and I had married someone else, there is no possible way I would have used that name, regardless of how much I love it. Our little girl was just as much his as she was mine, and only the two of us could create her.

As you may imagine, this IF struggle has only added to the urgency of Molly. I cannot explain with words how much I know she is there. I can truly picture her little soul hovering above us, waiting patiently for us to get it right. It’s equally heartbreaking and uplifting to feel her presence every single day. And as impatient and frustrated as I get, I guess it does feel better to know she is there. Even if I never get to meet her in this lifetime (worst case scenario!) I have no doubt I will see her on the other side.

So anyway, the fact that this psychic got it right is eerie. Sure, she had a 50/50 chance, but I have no doubt that I would have discredited her immediately if she had said boy. When I told Hubs the story, he just smiled and said, “That’s our Molly.” Well, of course it is – who else could it be?

Now wouldn’t it be funny if we had a boy first.

Dec 03

bursting with gratitude

Dec 03

Tell me this happens to all of you, too: you’re in the shower, or preparing dinner, or busy at work, and in your head you compose a post. It’s a great post! Chock full of wit and intrigue! But then, when the time comes to sit down and write it out, the words are just…gone. This has been happening to me a lot lately.

I thought for sure I’d have time to do a Thanksgiving post, especially since this year I am the most thankful person that ever did thank. Also, I worked from home during the snowstorm on Wednesday, and had off Friday. And yet somehow the weekend slipped away from me. Ah, well.

I’ve been thinking a lot about being thankful. I’m still doing a lot of that. I don’t know if any of you follow Scary Mommy, but lately the majority of those posts have been sort of annoying me. It seems like every other post (with a few notable exceptions) is about a mom just counting down the minutes until bedtime, or hiding in the bathroom from her kids, or chugging wine and trying to get out of story time. And yes, I understand that parenting is hard…especially when you have multiple children…and complaining is natural, and normal. And maybe I don’t have the right to say this yet because I’ve only been a parent for a few short months and I only have one child. But where are all the posts filled with joy and gratitude? Where are all the moms rushing home without stopping to pick up creamer first, because one quick trip to the grocery store on a weeknight means 15 minutes fewer with her sweet baby? I know those moms are out there, too. I happen to be one of them.

Some things in life, even things that I really, really look forward to, are not as good as I imagined. Being a mom? Better. So, so much better. I am grateful in every waking moment. When it’s 5 am and I’m frickin’ exhausted and she won’t stop kicking my boob and babbling at me…when she cries and fusses for absolutely no reason at all…when she (willfully?) grabs my hair and yanks..I smile, and I’m thankful. I’m not doing it for show, or because I don’t feel like I have a right to complain. I am genuinely, truly filled to bursting with appreciation and awe every day of my life. It’s a very strange thing to try to explain. And for someone who has been spoiled and perhaps a bit overindulged (relatively speaking) for most of her life, it’s a wee bit of an adjustment.

Thanksgiving was awesome. Molly had her first taste of food (organic sweet potatoes), and she did very well with them. We’ve tried to give them to her a couple more times but she has a “take it or leave it” kind of attitude about the whole thing. When we’re eating, she looks fascinated, but once we give her a turn she doesn’t seem to care anymore. I’m curious to see what happens when we try something different.

We did Christmas photos on Sunday and I’m dyinnnnnnng to see the proofs (and order cards). I had a little bit of a “new mom fail” at the photo shoot because I only brought a formal outfit, whereas my mom and sister brought PJs for the other kids to change into and those pictures are going to be so adorable. I wish someone had communicated to me that kids require multiple costume changes. How was I supposed to know?!

The new job? Ahhhhh, heaven! I’m already busy with work and my days fly by. The benefits there are incredible – not just infertility coverage, but even their maternity leave is DAMN GOOD. (Unsure if I’m allowed to disclose specifics, so I won’t, but I will say I’m thrilled). They actually have dedicated lactation rooms. With leather couches and high-tech massage chairs. For realz.

I have a billion more things to say but clearly I can’t remember any of them AND I need to go do some more (online) Christmas shopping. I started out saying that I was only going to get Molly one or two things since she’s clueless this year anyway, but so far I’ve already blown that limit out of the water and Eric’s been shopping for her, too. We just can’t help it. We’re too damn excited. And grateful. Incredibly, ridiculously grateful.

Nov 18

#microblog monday

Nov 18

Lots of people ask me, “What’s the best thing about being a mommy?” (I’m not just saying that. I’ve been asked this multiple times). I never know how to answer, so I usually just smile and say, “Everything!” and we all have a laugh.

The truth is, it’s hard to put into words. There’s something that Erika said on her blog recently about motherhood that’s been stuck in my head ever since. She said that ever since becoming a mom, “Every day is the best day of my life.”

So simple. Yet, it fits perfectly. Ever since having Molly, no matter what’s going on, I just have to sit back and marvel. Because every day is just that – it’s the best day of my life.

Oct 21

pumpkin picking & very important questions

Oct 21

Despite the amount of anticipation leading up to the event, not much went down at the pumpkin patch. It wasn’t very cold (mid-50s) but it was windy. Very windy. And while normally Molly loves being outside, she is not a fan of wind.

“Not amused, mom.”

My sister and I both decided that pumpkin patches sound better in theory then they do in practice. Or maybe I’m just saying this because it was so dang windy. But all in all, it went ok. Obviously, she looked adorable. We picked out a little pumpkin for her. We took a bajillion photos. Eric and I also bought a gallon of homemade apple cider and have plans to make a warm bourbon/cinnamon/cider drink to enjoy while carving the pumpkins. It’s nice – usually I just buy a pumpkin, plop it on the front porch, and throw it away when it starts rotting in mid-November. But this year, we’re actually going to put in the effort to carve it. Apparently having Molly has inspired us to do cute and crafty family activities (not gonna lie – spiked apple cider is also part of the incentive).

Saturday we had a wedding to attend and left Molly with my parents for the evening. Apparently (and of course my mom only told me this later) she was inconsolable after figuring out that we had left her there. My mom didn’t want to bug us, so she called my sister to see how to calm Molly down. I have noticed that she’s been clingier than usual lately and doesn’t really like when people who she doesn’t know hold her (and she sees my mom once a week at least, so it’s not even like they’re strangers). She’ll tolerate it, but she keeps her eyes on me. It makes me feel special to be needed…but I’d also like to be able to leave her with babysitters when I need to. Everyone says it’s just a phase. Hopefully that’s true.

And thankfully she considers Ashley her second mommy, so dropping her off there every morning is no problem. I’m not even jealous of their bond anymore… I’m just relieved that she’s not crying and reaching for me when I leave. I couldn’t deal with that kind of heartbreak on a daily basis. I was a little worried this morning because she was watching me warily as I put on my coat (Yes, she was literally eyeing me up and definitely knew I was getting ready to leave…and she’s not even four months old. Child prodigy, ha). But Ash said she was fine. Apparently Aunt Ashley is an acceptable substitute for mommy.

Ok, now on to my crazy idea/question: have any of you ever considered a blog meet-up?

I don’t know…it’s just, I’ve been following along with your lives for several years now. I’ve laughed with you and cried with you. I’ve celebrated your joys and mourned your losses. I talk about each and every one of you as if we’re friends IRL (and still, my husband is always like, “Who?!!”).

So it just led me to the idea of doing a meet-up. Before I think about it too deeply, I guess I’m just wondering if there’s any interest. And I do realize it’s probably a lot to ask people, to use precious vacation time on relative strangers.

But then I think… couldn’t it just be awesome?

Obviously the big question is, WHERE? And for that, I turn to you. As much as I would love to have a big bloggy sleepover at my house, I simply don’t have the space for it. Plus Pennsylvania is a pretty lame state in general. I would be using this as an excuse for a little vacation, I’m assuming, so I’d like to pick somewhere cool. I mean, if one of you has a beach mansion off the Florida Keys, now is the time to say so!

Then I was thinking, do these already exist and maybe I just don’t know about them? I’m not really looking for networking or blog exposure or anything sales-y like that. More just fun times in a new place (maybe a festival? Wine festival?) and putting names to faces.

So I ask you – is this crazy? Or can we maybe, feasibly do this? I know many of you who live close to each other have already done something similar, so I’d love to hear your take on whether something like this is worth it or not.

So – worth it? No? Where? When? How? Or is it just too weird? Either way, it’s fun being friends online. I won’t be offended if you think it’s lame.

This is officially the most interrogative post I’ve ever written. Sorry?

Sep 24

wordless wednesday: Molly’s 3 month photo session

Sep 24

Sep 15

the no-time-to-post post

Sep 15

I really wanted to blog tonight. I start to feel guilty when a week goes by without a post, especially since I’m composing so many in my head all the time. But now it’ s like 10:30 and I know my little one is gonna be screaming her head off by 5, so I need to be quick about it.

Saturday Molly was baptized, and it was one of those days that turned out so well I was pretty sure that I was watching it happen to someone else, because no way was I that lucky. It was a little chilly, but the rain held off. She was an angel for the whole thing… didn’t cry or fuss one time, not even when the priest poured water on her head or when she had her first little taste of wine (I’m Eastern Rite Catholic – which is pretty much exactly like Russian Orthodox, except Catholic. So in addition to being baptized, babies are also confirmed and get their first communion all at once. And wouldn’t you know it – she seemed to like the wine!). Everyone came back to my mom’s house and ate and socialized and had a good time, plus we had just the right amount of food (which yes, is a thing for me).

Today I figured I’d have plenty of time to write a deep, insightful post and catch up on everything that’s been going on, like how my milk is drying up since I went back to work (Waaaahhh!) and various other things. But then I had church followed by breakfast followed by Target followed by falling asleep while breastfeeding, and then we had to run to Eric’s sister’s house for his nephew’s birthday party. Then I came home to a mountain of laundry to fold, lunches to pack, and general little chores to do before putting Molly to bed. And hey, whattaya know, before I can blink it’s Sunday night at 10:30pm and I’ve done nothing I wanted to do. No insightful blog post. Still haven’t updated her baby book or put her photos in frames like I’ve been meaning to. There really aren’t enough hours in the day.

It’s time for bed. But before I go, here’s a few pictures of what’s been going on with us. Apologies to any Facebook/Insta friends who are probably really sick of seeing the same ones over and over. :)

Wearing a dress that her great great grandmother made for my mother to wear in 1963

Costume change, post-baptism. Is this not the cutest outfit in the world?

Eagles pride!

Tell me this kid doesn’t have the cutest sad face ever!

Aug 27

a day in the life (2-month-old edition)

Aug 27

I love these. Sometimes they make me sigh with recognition, and sometimes they make me laugh because they are SO far-fetched (and usually in those cases, enviable). Anyway, I thought it would be fun to make one of my own.

4:30-5:00AM

I wake up to the sound of crying. Multiple attempts to ignore the crying don’t work, and eventually I give in and get out of bed, taking care not to wake the sleeping dogs and sleeping husband. Inevitably, at least one dog wakes up and looks at me plaintively, wondering if I’ll take him out. I respond by shutting the bedroom door in his face.

5:05AM

Diaper change. Molly is usually sleepy and yawn-y and adorable. She only cries when I have the audacity sneak in a bathroom visit before feeding her.

5:10AM

Breastfeeding, take one. We sit on the couch, with all the lights off except the lamp we keep on 24/7 to deter burglars, and bond over Molly’s breakfast time. Sometimes, depending on how early we started this ritual, we both doze off for 15-20 minutes.

5:40AM

We wake up when Eric gets up and lets the dogs out of the bedroom. It’s hard to stay asleep with Bird jumping all over you, licking your face. She’s used to it by now though, and usually falls back to sleep fairly quickly.

6:00AM

I hand off the sleepy/sleeping baby to Eric and run for the shower, knowing that I have a limited amount of time before she wakes up and starts crying again.

6:10AM

Shower over. Baby stirring.

6:12AM

Baby starts getting fussy. Turn on the blow dryer and hope it soothes her back to sleep.

6:15AM

The blow dryer plan worked, but once it’s turned off, she wakes up again. I hurry through my makeup application and try desperately to remember to put on deodorant. Molly is now crying in earnest as I rush to the bedroom and throw on the first thing I see that fits and is appropriate for an office setting (no easy feat). There’s no time for jewelry selection or anything that might waste precious moments, so I just wear the same necklace every day, or nothing at all. I hastily make the bed to keep Ryder from chewing apart the down comforter while we’re at work (this has happened several times, and a tightly made bed seems to deter his feather craving).

6:30AM

Eric hands off Molly so he can go get in the shower. At this point I have two options – either strap her in her carseat and listen to her scream while I get stuff ready to go, or put her in her Rock ‘n Play and listen to her scream while I get stuff ready to go. I usually opt for the former so at least I’m one step closer to getting out the door.

6:30-6:45AM

Feed the fish, add last minute items to lunches, set out lunches, make my coffee, pack bottles, put on my shoes, find my phone, make a smoothie, put away miscellaneous dog bones, straighten up, double and triple check that I have everything, gather it all up in my arms, head for the exit. All while she’s screaming.

6:45-7AM

Drive to Ashley’s house. Her screaming quiets the moment I put the car in drive. I narrowly avoid hitting trees/other drivers because I can’t stop staring at her perfect little face in the mirror.

7AM

Arrive at Ashley’s intact. Molly is usually lightly sleeping by this point. I wake her up, pop out a boob, and settle into “my” recliner.

7:00-7:30AM

Breastfeeding, take two. Chat with Ashley and children. Reluctantly start trying to pry the baby off starting around half past 7, but usually end up leaving late.

7:35AM

Leave for work. Feel immediate sense of guilt/longing/wistfulness/sadness/envy.

8AM-5:30PM

Workity work, work, work. Obsessively check text messages for cute pics from my sister (and there are always a few). Check in often. Continue to feel wistful. Add in three pump sessions, and call it a day.

5:34PM

It takes me exactly four minutes to get from my desk chair to my car, and that’s not fast enough. I can practically hear her tiny tummy rumbling from miles away. Plus, by this point I miss her terribly.

5:50PM

Get a call from Eric (baby crying in the background): “Will you be home soon, Mommy? Someone is HUNGRY today.”

6:00PM

Begin disrobing on the trip from the car to the front door. Drop everything in the front hall, tear off my shirt and bra, and sit down to feed my hungry little love.

6:00-7:00PM

Breastfeeding, take three. Attempt to satisfy her insatiable hunger as mine continues to grow. Did you know that breastfeeding makes you hungry?

7:00PM

Hand her off to Eric and head into the kitchen.

7:15PM

Baby starts to fuss. How is that possible? I was supposed to be cooking dinner but all I’ve managed to do is unpack her bottles and put away half the rack of clean dishes.

7:30PM

Contemplate ordering a pizza.

7:31PM

Decide we can’t have pizza again. Whip together some semblance of a balanced meal while simultaneously washing dishes and utensils as I dirty them so that the sink doesn’t fill up again.

7:45PM

Dinner is ready. Molly is crying.

7:50PM

I shovel food in my mouth while she screams and Eric complains about not being able to feed her. I feel horribly guilty for making her wait, and also inexplicably guilty for his inability to breastfeed. Somehow I know it’s all my fault.

7:53PM

Breastfeeding, take four.

8:00-9:30PM

Intermittent breastfeeding between attempting to get things done. It goes a little like this: I feed her until she dozes off, sneak away to quickly pack lunches or put away leftovers, and run back to her when she starts crying (usually in 15-20 minute increments). This is what we call her “hungry time.” Yes, she sleeps through the night, but she certainly takes care to fill up her tummy prior to bedtime. This little window is also the only time I have to blog, which is why it usually doesn’t happen. Eric always tries to hold and comfort her, but inevitably she only wants one thing – milk. And that’s the one thing he can’t give her.

9:30-10:00PM

One last breastfeeding session to “top her off” and then it’s time for PJs and bed. Even if she’s wide awake at this point, she is really good at putting herself to sleep in her bassinet. All I do is swaddle her tightly, kiss her little face, and turn on her Sleep Sheep. Within ten minutes, she’s totally zonked out.

10:00PM

Back out in the living room, I contemplate tackling one of the numerous items on my to-do list.

10:01PM

Say to myself, “Screw it, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Know deep down that this will never happen.

10:10PM

Fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.

Aug 14

don’t make me go…

Aug 14

I’m going back to work on Monday.

I’m going to admit something that anyone who has talked to me over the past few weeks might be surprised to hear: I can kind of understand why 6 weeks is the time when most moms go back. That doesn’t mean I agree with it. It just means I understand it.

When I was pregnant, I started dreading going back to work – before she was even born! Those first few weeks post-partum, it wasn’t even a thought. Even at 4 weeks, the thought of leaving her for any length of time was simply unfathomable. But right around the 6 week mark, I started to notice a marked change in her. She started holding her head up better. She finally started filling out. No longer the 4 lb, 4 ounce little peanut I brought home from the hospital, my baby was just less fragile in general. That didn’t mean I wanted to leave her… it just meant I started feeling like maybe I could and she would be OK.

I’ve been home for 8 weeks (one perk of a c-section…2 extra weeks to recover). It’s not enough time. Five years would not be enough time. Is the work I’m doing more important than spending my days with my daughter? NO. Do I need to work so that those days aren’t spent living in a cardboard box? Sigh… yes. I know it’s hard for every mom to go back, but I seriously think there should be some special grant or something that IF’ers could apply for to let them stay home longer and still collect an income. I fought like hell for 3.5 years for this child, and now that I finally have her, I have to leave her for the better part of her day. It’s just really unfair.

I think the other hard thing is that in this age of technology, it seems like most of us in the corporate world should be able to work from home most days. Especially since I’m a writer. Then at least I could see her during the day, even if I would need someone to watch her while I was working. Unfortunately, it’s not an option at my current place of employment. It’s just not something they do.

It’s funny – a week after having her, I was showing up at my mother-in-laws with a full face of makeup, house vacuumed and spotless, all by 10 am. These days I’ve been experiencing a kind of productivity regression. Maybe I’m mentally digging my toes in, refusing to do anything. Lately I’ve been showering every other day and only leaving home out of necessity. This morning Molly and I stayed in our pajamas until 10:30 making pancakes. These are the things that I’ll miss the most.

Every morning Eric cheerfully reminds me how many days I have left until I go back to work, and has been since a week ago. I think a part of him expects me to reply one day with a staunch refusal, and maybe he’s just testing me to see if I’m really planning on going. I know that I have to. I know it will suck, and then it will slowly get better until it feels normal. I guess that’s the problem – right now this feels normal, being with my daughter every minute of every day. I don’t want that to change. I don’t want anything else to feel normal.

This sucks.