I knew it would happen with the addition of a new, still mostly unformed, little person in our house, but I am having a hard time keeping up.
I rotate between pajamas and sweatpants. I dread leaving the house (while at the same time cannot WAIT TO LEAVE THE HOUSE). My hair, while clean, is never styled, but rather pulled back in what I pretend is a fashionably shabby pony tail. If I’m lucky I can pull some crock ingredients out of the freezer at night and throw them together the next morning. But, more likely, at 4:45 each evening I’m diving in the freezer for some frozen fish and sniffing last week’s saved rice to see if it’s still good. (Though, I am still the lucky recipient of some Meals for Mamas from our local MOMS club, and they are saving my life, and my husband’s.)
I foolishly accepted another 5-week teaching position that started this week, then flubbed the dates, forgot to reply to an email, and lost that job. (Thankfully, however, I am not off the rotation for good – my supervisor is incredibly forgiving.) I’m upset at the loss of income, yes, but more so I’m totally irritated with myself for messing up. This is not like me. I am not a flake.
Luna has been challenging in the way that many newborns are – fussy and wanting constant contact. Add to the mix a diagnosis of reflux and a suspected reaction to dairy (yes, even in baked goods *sob*), and honestly, this baby is so rarely awake and not either nursing or crying that when it DOES happen, John and I hardly know what to do. Night time is … decent, for the most part. We’re co-sleeping, which I know is not everyone’s cup of tea, but it means I get SOME sleep and Luna can eat whenever she wants to. It’s working for now.
Xander is watching more TV than I would like, because I don’t have the time or the free arms to come up with fun scavenger hunts for Sanskrit signs, or whatever, and it’s flipping SNOWING STILL, so I can’t even send him out on the patio to write on the walls with chalk. So. Joe from Blue’s Clues is his best friend at the moment.
I’m desperate for some time, some actual time, when someone is not literally hanging off of my body or whining in my ear or both and it just seems so bleak, sometimes.
I know it won’t last. I know I need to cherish the moments. Whatever. We’re all about survival right now.
I honestly think that the arrival of the sun and warm weather is going to make a big difference. I am depressingly over the snow, the cold, the gray. I want to go outside. Even if it’s with a crying baby strapped to my chest in the BabyHawk, at least there will be fresh air and something to look at other than our walls.
This post sounds dreadfully miserable, I know. It’s not as bad as that. I mean, yes, it is, in a way, but it’s also great. I have two kids, and it seems that this is all I’ve wanted. I have a baby who actually nurses well, and seems to like it. Xander LOVES his sister, and begs all the time to "touch the baby Luna." John manages his time the best he can so he’s home often, able to step in and play with Xander while Luna cluster feeds in the evenings.
And while she’s hard, yes, Luna’s head still smells like powder. Her hands are still like starfish.
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