Friday, March 27, 2015

Friday's Letters

Dear receptionist at the kids' pediatricians office,

If you're so sick that your Darth Vader impression is dead-on, you probably shouldn't get annoyed with me when I can't understand what the heck you're asking me. Also, you work in place where tiny babies with no immune systems visit, get your germ-invested butt home.

The mom who said "sorry, what? 14 times in a 8 minute conversation.

Dear Fynn and Bentley,

I've yet to figure out your secret form of sibling communication, but you seriously need to stop tag-teaming me here. There's no way that it's a coincidence that Bentley sleeps until Fynn's nap time and then wakes up as soon as she passes out... and then falls back to sleep just 5 minutes before Fynn get up. Knock it off.


Your mother, who desperately needs a nap

Dear Drew,

I'm sorry that I'm not sorry for buying a ring sling the other day... even though you pointed out that I already have 5 baby carriers. This one's blue. And pretty. And can have a baby wrapped and ready to go in seconds. And yes, I greatly appreciate that you bought me the Ergo a few months ago, but this is totally different and I swear I'll used both.

Your baby-wearing obsessed (by necessity) wife

Thursday, March 26, 2015

My days are all blending together

Yesterday I wrote about what a day looks like around here... well, a day when I only have one baby to take care of, and it made me think about my maternity leave. This is week 5 of my maternity leave, and I'm no longer sure what I've done on any given day. I know that on Tuesdays and Thursdays Fynn goes to daycare and Tuesday is the breastfeeding support group Bentley and I go to... other than that, it's a bit of a blur.

When was the last time B had a bath? Did I shower today? Or yesterday? What day did we cook the chicken sitting in the fridge? Did Fynn nap yesterday?

No idea.

In some ways it's nice. No deadlines, grad school homework, papers to grade, students to worry about, or rushing around to do. But in some ways it's unmotivating (it's a word, I promise... even if spell check says it's not). With no place to be or things to get done, I find myself unmotivated to get things done. Kitchen a mess? Meh, I can pick up later/tomorrow/never ever ever. Thank you cards for gifts brought to the hospital when B was born? Eh, it's only been a month (side note, a friend of mine had a baby shower on the 14th and I got a thank you card in the mail on the 17th... I may hate her a little bit). I want to care that I'm not getting much done... but it's hard to care when it doesn't really matter.

Besides, as I lay on the couch, I get to snuggle these two
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