So now that O is 2 months old (birthing story will be posted eventually)...I had hoped nursing would be a breeze and sleeping through the night would be be possible. Ah, i crack myself up. Wishful thinking indeed. While motherhood has brought about a new and selfless me, with it came, constantly engorged breasts, dark circles (darker than before I might add) LONG tangled hair, and a makeup less face whose body spends most of its time in a nighty or robe. With the exception of the mandatory mascara I refuse to deprive myself of. The mod in me will never die.
While I am determined to continue to cloth diaper and make home cooked meals as a stay at home mother who works part time, I find myself wondering where the time goes. I glance at a clock relieved... "Oh, great! I've still got 4 hours to start dinner, finish up that load of laundry and begin that sewing project I've been putting off for days." Only to have my plans shaken up by a dozen other obstacles. I have quickly realized that time management is a crucial skill for the new mom. That and the ability to laugh when you feel like crying after you've just put on your last clean top only to have it soiled by baby right before you leave the house. While I've conditioned myself to be better at it for the past month I find my husband is sometimes oblivious to what that entails.
Here's a good example.. O usually takes a 2-2.5 hour nap every morning around 10am. I fully expect to take advantage of every sleeping second. I cheerily head to the kitchen to dice my meat and veggies, and attempt to perfect my stew recipe. I begin with the aromatics. As I reach into the fridge to pull out my stew meat I am irritated to find it had been placed in the freezer by my husband.. possibly the night before. He has this thing about food safety, and was worried that I would forget of the fresh meat and have it spoil. Even after I assured him of my plans for it a couple days prior. Conclusion: As a microwave free home, defrosting meat requires something I have little of...TIME. My nostrils flared as I sent a kind, loving, yet frustrated text requesting that he never ever do that again. He graciously apologized and agreed. I love that I love him so much. If it weren't for those feelings I'd be ill equipped to cope with the many unexpected surprises of parenthood. And while I'd love to dilly dally a little longer, my breast pump calls.
