Monday, May 12, 2014

a routine, of sorts

We were extraordinarily fortunate to have some on-hand, in-house help for the last 5 weeks or so, in the form of a dear mother-in-law from Denmark. This meant I was relieved of nearly all household duties for those five weeks, and between her and my own mom, I hardly saw the laundry room and nary lifted a hand in the kitchen much beyond slicing her homemade bread and pouring wine. Rough. She left last week but stocked our freezer with baked goods and Danish meatballs, which we have plans to mete out for as long as possible. Obviously.

So here's how things go. On an average/above-average day:

There's a hungry baby somewhere between 4 and 5 a.m. Unfortunately, after most of these early morning wake-ups, I don't get back to sleep very well, sometimes hardly at all.

But time marches on, and so at 7 or 7:15 I'm up for real, cursing my unhealthy sleep habits, nursing the babe and then handing her off to my husband or mom, depending on the day and schedule. I throw on some clothes and remind myself to be thankful to work in an office where I really don't feel the need to impress anyone with my wardrobe (let's just that it's not a place where it's stylish to be styish and leave it at that?). So I consider myself good if I don something semi-clean, breastmilk and spit-up notwithstanding. Then I multitask the last few minutes to get the ever-important tumbler of coffee, grab some breakfast to take to work, round up all of my pumping supplies (I should learn to do this at night, but...procrastination keeps things so much more interesting), get out to the car and out of the driveway 5 minutes behind schedule (working on this) and throw my car into sports mode so I can drive like one bat out of hell and maybe be just 3.5 minutes late to work.

I usually then pump—bane of my existence, but I'll save that commentary for another day—somewhere between 9 and 10. I will say that my pumping set-up is nothing to complain about since I have my own office. There's a pumping room here at work, but I've never had to see the inside of it, which I'm moooore than fine with.

Most days I head back home for lunch since it's pretty close by. For a long time I fell into the habit of eating lunch at my desk, but post-baby, since my drive is so easy, I'd rather check in on things and nurse Ing to get me out of another pumping session.

I usually pump one more time in the afternoon, around 2:45 or 3, definitely before 3:30, because that's when I start to hear the custodian and his trashcan lumbering down the hall, and he has keys to my office, so...I have to be careful not to add that to my most embarrassing story repertoire.

I leave work most days around 4:30 so am home before 5. I usually nurse Ing right away, and then it's just baby time, with maybe a shower thrown in the mix somewhere between baby play/food/bath and a walk around the block or some piddling around the yard. She gets a bottle of formula every night around 6 or 6:30 (yet another topic for another time), which is usually the start of her bedtime routine. Most nights she's in her crib by 7 or 7:15 and asleep relatively soon after, give or take, depending on the day and the mood of the baby sleep gods. Then we do dinner and sometimes try to straighten the downstairs. Other times (PLENTY of times) just getting most of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher is considered enough.

I dreamfeed Ing around 9 and then it's lights out by 9:30 or so.

My MIL left last week (hopefully to return this summer, Lord-willing/God please hear my prayer), so now we're back to figuring out how to do more things in the same amount of time, with the same amount of energy. Realistically this will mostly translate into prioritizing the musts, like keeping the floor somewhat free of dog hair now that we have a crawler. Aim low, people. Aim. low. The further I get into the mothering, the more I'm forced to master the art of letting go, accepting that having it all has very little—if anything—to do with doing it all.

No comments:

Post a Comment