We’re at the point, post-baby, where on the one hand, things feel pretty much back to normal. Laundry is getting done, diapers are getting washed, meals are made, the house is moderately clean, etc. Sure, I feel like announcing on twitter each and every time I manage to chase all the girls through the shower/bath, but THEY ARE BATHING, AT LEAST. My best friend was visiting this weekend, and she commented “Well, adding another baby to your family sure didn’t seem to faze you guys.” I think, to some degree at least, that’s true. (I also realize she made that statement fairly early in her stay with us and was perhaps singing a different tune by the time she left yesterday.)
On the other hand, I DO sort of feel like I deserve a round of applause whenever I manage to make dinner or return an email. I mean, we’re getting things done, but ONLY the basics, and even THAT takes effort. This baby is still quite fussy, especially in the evenings, and MAN does she NOT SLEEP. Or at least, not for long stretches of time. And then there’s the issue of ME not going to bed when SHE does, and thus missing a good hour or more of prime sleeping time (LIKE RIGHT NOW). But once all the kids are finally down for the night, I’m READY for some quiet time FOR MYSELF. Ya know?
(Taking a nap on mama’s bed…)
The thing that has always surprised me about chronic sleep deprivation is how well I CAN learn to function with so very little sleep. I mean, I get ONE stretch of 2-3 hours per night, and after that she’s up every hour. EVERY. HOUR. And yet, I still rise in the morning and go about my day, mostly like normal. And the reason I’m slowed down at all is not so much from the lack of sleep as from the fact that I’m doing everything one-handed while also bouncing/shushing/swaying a baby. Sure, once in awhile I hit a wall of exhaustion, and I DO take a nap most days, but mostly I’m… fine. (I honestly think it’s harder once baby does start sleeping better and then regresses… something about being up a bunch at night when you’re NOT used to it is harder than being up a bunch at night, every night.)
As I said, my bestie East Coast Anne visited us this past weekend, which was the main reason I wasn’t despondent over the fact that I was not at The Blathering.
Everyone should have an East Coast Anne in their lives. She’s the type of friend that comes into your home and loves up your kids and bounces your baby when she’s fussy and throws in a load of laundry and makes you coffee and starts packing your girls’ lunches while you are still sleeping and holds your baby so that you can work on a project with BOTH hands and cries when she watches your birth video and loads the dish washer and asks the older girls about their day and makes them feel special and dances in your kitchen while making dinner and twirls your preschooler around and around until they are both dizzy and spends an entire afternoon sitting on your bed with you, passing the baby back and forth, just talking.
She’s the type of friend that falls in love with your baby and makes you realize that you can be a better mom to your big kids. She understands your husband and fits into your life so easily it’s like she’s always around. She beams goodness and light out of her every pore, and inspires you to be better too.
Yesterday after I dropped her off at the airport, I came home to find out that David was working late. I made dinner and then ate dinner with one hand while Olive screamed and fussed and puked and carried on the ENTIRE TIME. Late this afternoon, after spending the entire day at a midwife appointment and away from the house running errands, I hit a wall and wanted desperately to take a nap. Olive would not stop fussing, and every time I dozed off she woke me AGAIN. I just wanted 30 minutes to sleep, ya know? And YET. THE FUSSING.
God, I miss her.
Hey, I updated my “About Me” page. (WHERE’S MY ROUND OF APPLAUSE???)