I feel like I'm living in an Erma Bombeck book. Seriously. As I rush out the door in a whirlwind of books and bottles, it's pretty humourous some mornings.
Tuesday, I was about 6 blocks away when I realized I had forgotten my breast pump. And that I hadn't nursed Haydon in at least 3 hours. It was a good thing I had left for work early. I whizzed back, nursed him, grabbed the pump and left. I'm sure the babysitter thought I was nuts.
I used to always look wonder why people with kids were so scattered. Why couldn't they just show up somewhere, on time, with their kids dressed with matching socks? And why were the kids always eating some sort of take-a-long breakfast? Hahahaha...I so get it now. Getting ourselves out the door early in the morning is quite the production. And I only have one, and I can't get anywhere on time anymore (James asked me tonight if my mom, who has been known to be chronically late, was like that before she had children...wait...my mom existed before she had children!?!)
And then there's days like today. I know I'm not superwoman. But somedays I feel like I'm starting to come close.
I went to work (teaching today).
I came home on my lunch break and nursed Haydon and hung clothes out to dry.
Went back to work.
Came home and asked the babysitter if she could stay a bit longer so that I could cut the grass and clean up the disgusting mess of grapes that have fallen from our grapevine 'cause we haven't gotten around to picking them.
Ok. So, maybe that's not all that much. It was in my head when I decided I'd make a beautiful supper too. But then I decided that James could make his own dinner, 'cause I was going to be fed at book club.
And then I sat on the floor while Haydon played and tried to finish the book for book club.
And then I went to book club.
(Thank the good Lord for good books and great woman to discuss them with!!!)
But seriously. There's something about being the person bringing home the bacon, AND doing the laundry, AND cutting the grass that just feels like...a lot.
And don't get my wrong, that husband guy is probably still a Saint, but it sure has been a tough week as we sort out our new roles and added responsibilities on not a ton of sleep. Let's just say that tempers have been a bit short this week.
Someone at book club asked me tonight if I did ridiculous things because I'm tired enough to be crazy.
Oh, maybe.
Like get the coffee all set to go this morning, except not actually put any coffee into the machine, only to be super disappointed when I came back to a pot of hot murky water.
Or fill the car up with gas, only to look in my side mirror five minutes later and notice that I hadn't put the cap on the tank.
Or stay up blogging when I should be sleeping 'cause the husband's working on a report that will likely keep him up most of the night and so that baby's all mine when he gets up. Every time (shall we bet on how many tonight? I think four).
I used to be able to gather thoughts and right witty, smart sentences in posts that were somewhat themed and thought out. This...this...I don't even know what this is.
Goodnight. And Goodluck.
You sure sound like Superwoman! Some days all I can manage is to get out of my pajamas. :)
ReplyDeleteThe over-tired crazies have hit us pretty bad too:
I put metal jar lids in the microwave steriliser, and couldn't figure out why the plastic melted. Andrew poured 3 times too much water into a glass. I put my cell phone through the washing machine. I kept telling Andrew how much I love "gravy soup" and wanted to make some, and was mad when he had no idea what I was talking about. (Beef stew was what I wanted... I have no idea where "gravy soup" came from...) I put Annie's diaper on with the tab done up under her leg instead of over.... the list goes on and on!