Saturday, October 20, 2012

A New Groove

I worried about a lot of things while pregnant. In fact, I mastered borrowing worry. My child was going to be colicky - I was certain. So I read books to prepare. Charley's not colicky. According to my sister, she's the most well-behaved baby ever. (That's an overstate, but she is pretty darn good.)

One of my biggest worries was how I'd get my workout groove back. Husband and I had a nice little system pre-baby. We'd alternate gym days with dog walk days and on weekends I'd swim and yoga while he hit the trails. We each got workouts in about five days a week and felt relatively fit.

While pregnant, I wracked my brain to come up with a system that would work with a baby and dog. I'd get up an 4:30am to accommodate exercise. I'd go to the 8pm swim practices. I'd do extra long workouts on the weekends.

Sometimes good intentions remain intentions.

Getting up at 5am gives me time to feed the baby, get ready for work, pump and get baby to day care. Saturday mornings are such a luxury now. Coffee with my husband, Baby C in her sleep sack until 10am, taking Trudy on a long walk. The last thing I want to do is bust ass to the gym and miss this family time.

To my friends with kids, I owe you a huge apology. I remember one friend bemoaning how hard it was to get to the gym with a kid. My callous response was why don't you go after you pick her up from day care?

Really? I told my friend to take her baby who had been in day care all day to put her in a gym day care for another hour afterwords? I would have smacked me.

I race to get C from day care. This is no reflection of the facility, but I can't get her out of there soon enough. Then I get her home and just want to feed her and look at her and sing to her. Leaving her to go to swim practice doesn't even cross my mind.

A friend asked if I'd start training again for triathlons. I laughed. Training for one sport is far-fetching enough. Trying to do three would make my head explode. For now, my sport is composing jingles that make her smile.

Things will eventually change and she won't be so needy. I'll start running with her in the stroller or Husband will put her in the burley. Maybe she'll swim and I'll train while she's at practice. But for now the sport of being a mom is pretty awesome.

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Blink of an Eye

Has it really been eleven weeks? Have I really been a stay-at-home mom for nearly three months? Is tomorrow actually the day I will drop off Baby C at child care and drive to the office to reclaim my pre-baby job? Shockingly, yes.

Last night I teared up while explaining to Husband every milestone makes me nostalgic. I even cried at my six week follow-up doctor's appointment. When sweet Dr. L grabbed my hand and looked at Charley, complimenting her in all her baby-ness, it felt like a door closing. That door opened last December with a plus sign on a little plastic stick. Ten months later with a pat on the back I'm out the door with this creature who has overwhelmed my world.

Let me be clear - I know people have babies everyday. Multiple babies. Some have nineteen and get their own TV show. Baby C is not miraculous in that sense. She eats, poops, sleeps, cries and obsesses over ceiling fans. (This is her new favorite activity.) But for Husband and I, each of whom thought having kids wasn't in the cards, she's surprisingly interesting and even - dare I write it - fun.

I commented to Husband that we met about two and half years ago. We both paused. In that time, we met, got engaged, moved in together, lost family members, got a dog, got pregnant and brought home a baby. That's a busy two years.

I'm all over the place with this entry, probably a reflection of my emotions.

A final thought before wrapping this up will be a little advice. Not that you asked, but it's my blog and I feel like dispensing. Don't wait until you're 39 to have a kid. This is a young person's game. I'm like the chaperone busting a move at the seventh grade dance. When my knees crack standing up from the glider, when my crows feet look more pronounced from lack of sleep, when I do the math of how old I'll be when she graduates - it's difficult. It almost makes you endorse teen pregnancy. (I'm kidding!)

But the most difficult aspect is the realization of how selfish I got to be for nearly four decades. Once you have a kid that comes to a screeching halt. Also coming to a halt is the ability to blog about anything but your kid. I'll try to diversify now that I'm rejoining the real world. One can hope.

Thursday, October 4, 2012

Greasy hair, dirty clothes and a vague smell of poop - welcome to maternity leave

Two weeks from today I'll be back at work. Fourteen measly days. While I know dropping Charley off at day care is going to be a mascara-free day, I'm quietly happy to be venturing back into the land of adults. A place where conversation does not revolve around the number of daily poops, generic verses brand name diapers and what brand socks actually freaking stay on a baby's foot. (The answer is GAP.)

Before Baby C's arrival, I was anxiously awaiting maternity leave. Three months of no work. Even with a baby, that sounded enticing. (Stupid me.) I've never not worked since graduating college. This would finally be the opportunity to be the glamorous, non-working person I yearned to be if I ever won the lottery.

As is always the case, my perception and the actual reality were very far apart. Squeezing in the bare necessities around the needs of a being that sleeps, poops, cries and eats continually does not leave a lot of spare time for lounging. (Or even showering, for that matter.) The fact that I'm blogging instead of nineteen other things needing my attention actually pains me, but I miss writing, so the kitchen floor shall remain fur-covered.

Though there's no time to brush my teeth, there has been ample time to watch HGTV, the Food Network and E! while I feed her. I'm on the second round of Property Brothers reruns and I've seen every episode of Chopped. (I still cry at the lunch lady episode.) Now I've started watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians - the horror - and it really is time to get the hell out of the house.

I know I'll look back on this time sweetly as Baby C gets older. I'm constantly reminding myself to slow down and enjoy this because the real craziness will set in when trying to juggle work and being a mom. But the truth is, I will be a better mom because I work. At least I hope so. We'll see what tune I'm singing come October 18.