Just One Thing
Here is what I have learned about being a new mother: you can do one thing per day. (I mean in addition to the feeding and diapering and burping and cuddling etc.) Really - in 24 hours there is only time for one non-baby related activity - so you have to chose wisely. Sometimes that One Thing is a shower (please note: applying body lotion is a second thing, and if Tequila Jane catches me at it, she'll scream her fool head off until I bolt half-lotioned back to her in shame) but not every day. If I showered every day, I would never get anything else done!
This is particularly troubling because TJ was nearly a month early. We had, oh, I don't know eight years to paint and plaster and transform the apartment from Jssangel's House of Knives and Matches into a Nuclear Family Idyll (and second bedroom from Den of Iniquity into Nursery.) It turns out that we needed eight years and one month.
The day before yesterday we hung curtains, thwarting the voyeurs across the way who have enjoyed three weeks worth of the Topless Mommy Show (it's like free cable!) Yesterday I took the vodka out of the freezer and replaced it with breast milk storage. Today I may drink the vodka.
The major obstacle to accomplishing anything is breast feeding. I thought I was prepared! The internet was really clear about how it's not instinctive, total rocket science, yet utterly (udderly?) essential to the health and well being of Tequila Jane, and deserving of all my not inconsiderable focus and problem solving skills. And - fair enough - this latching nonsense took a minute to figure out, as did the CIA Sanctioned maximization-of-sleep-deprivation method of timing feedings, and the poo-to-feeding tracking charts are right on the line between completely ridiculous and deadly fucking serious, but...the real challenge is being pinned in one place, unable to use my hands, for upwards of 12 hours a day.
So instead of writing thank you notes or repairing the baseboards, I just sit around cuddling TJ, watching her little baby face while she eats (and messing with her little baby feet when she falls asleep halfway through a meal.) It's both awesome and frustrating all at once. The Nursery of Iniquity cries out to have its closet organized, but alas, organizing a closet has to be the equivalent of like 10 things, which is way over my limit of one.
This is particularly troubling because TJ was nearly a month early. We had, oh, I don't know eight years to paint and plaster and transform the apartment from Jssangel's House of Knives and Matches into a Nuclear Family Idyll (and second bedroom from Den of Iniquity into Nursery.) It turns out that we needed eight years and one month.
The day before yesterday we hung curtains, thwarting the voyeurs across the way who have enjoyed three weeks worth of the Topless Mommy Show (it's like free cable!) Yesterday I took the vodka out of the freezer and replaced it with breast milk storage. Today I may drink the vodka.
The major obstacle to accomplishing anything is breast feeding. I thought I was prepared! The internet was really clear about how it's not instinctive, total rocket science, yet utterly (udderly?) essential to the health and well being of Tequila Jane, and deserving of all my not inconsiderable focus and problem solving skills. And - fair enough - this latching nonsense took a minute to figure out, as did the CIA Sanctioned maximization-of-sleep-deprivation method of timing feedings, and the poo-to-feeding tracking charts are right on the line between completely ridiculous and deadly fucking serious, but...the real challenge is being pinned in one place, unable to use my hands, for upwards of 12 hours a day.
So instead of writing thank you notes or repairing the baseboards, I just sit around cuddling TJ, watching her little baby face while she eats (and messing with her little baby feet when she falls asleep halfway through a meal.) It's both awesome and frustrating all at once. The Nursery of Iniquity cries out to have its closet organized, but alas, organizing a closet has to be the equivalent of like 10 things, which is way over my limit of one.