It wasn't terribly long ago, at my 9-5(/6/7/8) job, that I just got through the mornings. Now mornings, though they often arrive on my doorstep rudely early and are greeted half-heartedly by my alter-ego from Thriller, are my favorite time of day. They are full of promise - of staying on the routine, of getting things crossed off the to-do list, of new discoveries and milestones. Plus, my little charge greets the mornings like this:
With the boss lady fed, I fix myself cup of coffee #1 from the pot Miller made for me before he left for work and say goodbye to my alter ego from Thriller. See you tomorrow, buddy! Eliza is smiley, gurgly, cooing, happy. We take the pups outside for their morning romp around the yard and she watches with delight. We begin playtime...
...which has lately included pulling everything she can into her mouth - oh joy!
As the hours creep by, my glamorous day of errands and cleaning out the fridge unravels bit by bit. She fights the midmorning nap and it takes an hour to get her down. Suddenly it's noon and I'm still in my nightgown. Quick change into one of the 3 outfits that doesn't make me pass out instantly of heatstroke. I put E in the sling and water the garden, pat self on the back for remembering - better late than never! 30 minute feeding, 20 minutes of playtime, and we start the naptime routine again as E has started batting her ear and yawning. Start the story and she goes down to sleep. It's 3 - when did it become 3? - and I get the dishwasher unloaded during the 20 minute stretch of nap #3, and spray a little 409 on the counters (this passes for a clean kitchen in my house!). We will go to Target after this nap, I say. I will plop her in the carseat and off we will go. Suddenly it's 4:30 and you don't go anywhere in Austin at 4:30 if you don't absolutely have to. Certainly not Target with a baby who, sweet as she is, has a super secret timebomb setting and could meltdown in the middle of rush hour traffic. That Target errand took me a week to accomplish and I may or may not have desperately hoped I didn't run into anyone I knew due to my supreme lack of showeredness.
5:30 has me outside bouncing up and down the block, giving my little boss a tour of the garden, as these are things that keep her happy at this time of day. This time is waning, thank goodness, as she grows out of the fussiest period. I just realized that her two month birthday was the last day we saw a true "witching hour" (and then I somehow managed to take these):
Miller comes home around 6 and I hand him the baby, a burpcloth and a bottle and I sink into the sofa, telling him how I got the dishwasher unloaded and the garden watered, my big feats for the day. How Eliza pulled the toy into her mouth and rolled from tummy to back. He congratulates me on my big day because he is sweet like that.
These have been my days lately, as we pushed through two months, which I've been told over and over by strangers and friends is by far the "hardest part." The baby herself is truly precious, in fact I think I probably have it easier than most, but the screaming and crying for no reason day in and day out leaves the nerves a bit frazzly. At 10 weeks, she has gotten much more predictable and less screamy as we settle into a good routine, but like any job, some days still just suck every bit out of me. Like yesterday, when I additionally dealt with five - FIVE - nasty doggy accidents all over the house throughout the day due to a change in food. I always wondered what stay at home moms do all day long and it turns out, they mother. All day long.
I am not complaining; month two has been about getting into a good rhythm, and realizing there's a bit of a learning curve when it comes to this job. Certainly it's not glamorous and definitely it's changed me immensely in a short period of time. Mostly for the better, although I now totally get the cliche about moms cutting their hair short and not bothering to ever look cute and just generally losing all sense of what is fashionable or attractive. It's not because they don't care, it's because they have no damn time. That's why this post is a week late.
Witnessing Eliza's milestones and new discoveries are truly more rewarding than crossing off any to-do list, but understanding my limits - and hers - and recognizing that this is truly a full-time, round the clock job (not currently one with two-hour Bob Barker breaks) is just one of many adjustments in the transition to motherhood. We are 10 weeks in and I'm still transitioning. Transforming? And while it's by far the hardest job I've ever had, it's also one where my (and Scarlett O'Hara's) current mantra - "tomorrow is another day" - has few repercussions. Some days she didn't get 4 good naps in, and I didn't get the fridge cleaned out. But the next morning holds the same promise as the one before, along with the small victories which signal we are both making progress, and there is something comforting in that.
Plus, I get to end the day like this:
And surely that's worth something.
