Probably won’t either. I know, not quite as dramatic as you thought, or um, anticipated huh? This is the mantra I was raised on, as I was the toddler/child/kid/ teenager/adult who always managed to wind myself into a rat nest ball of nerves before any change occurred in my life. I’m not completely OCD, I can switch out a Pepsi for a Coke, but don’t ask me to switch sides of the bed, or for that matter, stay up later than my scheduled bed time. What I’m really talking about are big transitions – like starting a new job, moving, having a baby, wearing Tinkerbelle panties instead of Jasmine (oh wait, that’s my 3 year old, but I get it). The anticipation of sleep deprivation brings about an entirely new level of anxiety for me, and that’s without even being sleep deprived, or is it. I can’t tell.
Anyway, this rat nest of nerves began to bundle itself together a few weeks ago when my husband and I decided to take advantage of my parents being in town, and grab some grub. He was on winter break from work, and I was enjoying the last couple weeks of my maternity leave. My parents thought it might be nice if we strolled through the historic square, enjoyed some of the Christmas lights, each other’s company, and a nice little lunch date while they watched the kids. We chose this funky little place with free range meats, organic veggies, and a cozy atmosphere, plus some killer tots to boot. It all seemed to be going quite swimmingly until, unknowingly, my husband dropped the A-bomb – AKA – anxiety bomb. Taking a bite of his grassy beef burger, he innocently asked me “how are you feeling about heading back to work in a couple of weeks?”
I picked apart my chicken avocado sandwich, discarding the bread, and decided that the diet coke was toxic, clearly causing a migraine. I’ll just eat the tots. I can only wonder what he was thinking when I looked back up from my deconstructed lunch, and gazed not at him, but past him, my eyes flooding with tears. Pretty romantic date so far, I mean, we have drama, so we have at least 50% of what we need.
So, here is what I was thinking, rational or not - in one fell swoop – I really like being home with my baby because I love her to pieces, and she has finally stopped crying all day from colic and reflux, and we have this really awesome routine where I can actually get some “ME” time, and drink coffee in my pj’s, plus I can clean the house, make dinner, do laundry, AND sometimes get a shower in. OH, and remember that month, that 30 days where I only ate sweet potatoes and turkey so I could see what foods the baby was intolerant to? Well, that’s over, so I want a month to be home and to eat whatever I want. I am now able to go places, other than the grocery store because she no longer screams in the car seat, and we can snuggle for her afternoon nap, and I have become a new fan/addict of Grey’s Anatomy, and daytime TV in general, not to mention Facebook. When she doesn’t sleep well, I can stay in bed until 7 or 8 AM, and everything in the world is still okay. I can wear sweatpants, and even though I may not look sexy, I certainly don’t have to spend all day focused on my new muffin top spilling over my old clothes. In a few words, I am not yet overwhelmed by life. BUT, when I go back to work, I am somehow going to have to get dressed in real clothes and not cry over my new body. I’ll get up at 4:45 am, AND be up in the middle of the night with the baby, but isn’t 4:45 already the middle of the night?? The baby is still obsessed with my BOOBS, and glares at any sign of a bottle. And why am I the only one around here who doesn’t ever sleep, why do I feel like I want to reach across the table and clamp your mouth shut when you yawn? I know, that’s not nice. But seriously, there are four adults living in this house right now, and I don’t know if it’s my imagination, but it seems everyone is sleeping like, all day, all the time. It’s like a merry go round of naps around here. Anyway, when I go back to work, the baby is not going to sleep, and when baby doesn’t sleep, I will not sleep, and when I don’ t sleep, I just want to cry all day, but I can’t cry all day because we have two kids, not to mention the 35 kids I see and provide speech therapy to. They definitely cannot handle a crying speech therapist. Did I mention my head is pounding….isn’t that reason enough to throw this pity party? Hey, why are you taking off your party hat?? Wait, are you putting me in time out? I don’t want grilled cheese!! Don’t spank me…
Okay, I’ll be honest – I’m pretty sure I verbally regurgitated almost all of this to my husband, who, being the saint he is, quietly paid for lunch, gently held my hand, and walked me to the car. He didn’t even make me go to time out, but I think that’s just because he would rather spank me. Since that fateful day, I have only good news to report.
I am now 4 days into being back at work, and as it turns out, just as my mama always said, the anticipation is worse than the reality. Knock on wood…. all of a sudden, little one is sleeping 8 hours…can I get a Halleluiah?? She is taking her bottle like a champ at daycare too. When we get home, it’s busy, but manageable (minor disclaimer here – my parents are currently staying in the basement – doing our laundry – cooking dinner – and picking up 3 year old from school as needed – so stay tuned for update following their departure). Oh, and we are not “keeping them in the basement until we get back on our feet”, they have a nice little place down there, and we drop down food and water, or leftovers if we have any. They just may be the cause for this entire surge of dopamine right now….really. But in all seriousness, I am thrilled to be troubleshooting work related problems, giving lots of side hugs to my kids in the hall (ha, kids in the hall, anyone?) and I’m okay with letting go of Hoda and Kathy Lee. It was hard to watch at 9 a.m. on Wine Wednesdays and not participate. I felt like it was the least I could do if I was just sitting there.
What I do miss is having all that time with my little Cora. Now I cherish each little smile, each little smell, each little cuddle because they went from being seemingly unlimited to very limited. I know I am a better mom for working. I appreciate more, I love more, and my patience increases. I am not “whole” when I am a full time mom. I wish I could say I was, and part of me feels deficient for being that way, but it is what it is. I forgot how much I missed my teacher friends, and having an adult conversation. I forgot how much my work feeds me. It’s funny how we cling to what is comfortable, but not to what is always best for us, over and over again. But check it out…today as I was driving to work (in the dark) blasting Blind Pilot, wearing my favorite tights and boots, squeezing into my pre-pregnancy clothes, with baby cruising along in the back, snoozing away to the tunes, I took a big old sip of my very strong coffee and thought, dang, life is good, even if my skirt is a wee bit tight. Now, that’s just today, and tomorrow could be a total poop storm, but isn’t that all that matters anyway?
Post Script – I could not write a blog regarding children without somehow including the word poop. Sorry.
Post Post Script – Everything I wrote regarding the benefits of being back at work is everything my husband told me I would feel while we were at lunch that day, so honey, you don’t need to say anything like “I told you so”. You were right. It’s in writing, print it, wear it , make a big button, whatever. Love you.
Liz
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