Back to work

Tomorrow is my first day back at work (I'll be there Monday/Tuesday for the next three weeks, and DH is working weekends so he can stay home with the baby), and I'm as nervous as if it was my first day at a new job. I don't really know why - I've been working for the same company for nearly a decade, so it's not like there will be any surprises. My boss is one of the most amazing women I've ever met, and has been really supportive of my decision to stay home with the baby - so it's not that either. Maybe I'm afraid I'll really enjoy being back and therefore regret making the move to be a SAHM? I know a small part of it is the fact that we haven't tried to feed the baby frozen breast milk yet and aren't sure if he'll take to it or not, and I'm sure a big part is the fact that I haven't been away from the baby for more than 2 hours at a stretch since he was born. Maybe that's all - thinking about those two things is certainly enough to give me butterflies.

I'm going to have to send out an awful lot of emails to people letting them know that I'm leaving, and I'm sure the barrage I'm going to get back will be epic. Like I said, I've been there nearly ten years, and since I'm a liasion between the accounting department and the stores; I either personally know or have at least spoken to more than half of the 500+ people who work for the company. I popped into the office a little over a month ago (with the kiddo in tow) to attend the holiday lunch they were having, and while I was there I opened my email to see over 1,800 messages. Now that I'm not going to be back permanently I get to be less careful while cleaning out the inbox, but that's still a lot of email to sift through. I guess that's how I'll be spending my first day - reading and writing email.

At least I get to wear a shirt that doesn't require easy access to the boob!

Mommy brain take two

This mommy brain thing is unreal. People attribute it to lack of sleep, but thanks to my husband I'm getting plenty and yet I'm still stupid. Last night I walked into the master bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, and I found myself face-to-face with pee in the toilet. I know it was my pee because there was toilet paper in there too, and I'm the only girl in the house. My first thought - "WTF?". My second thought - "How in the blue hell did I forget to flush the toilet??". I've been pondering it, and the only thing I can think of is that yesterday morning I was so distracted by the baby chillin' in the middle of my bed that I peed, wiped, and got up to go pick him up without turning around to push the handle. But this begs the question - what happened to my automatic pilot? I rely on my automatic pilot to take care of mundane tasks like flushing the toilet - I need it! Where did it go, and how do I get it back??

Unrealistic expectations

In my pre-baby life I found it difficult to overcome inertia, but post-baby it's practically impossible. When I find a moment of peace all I want to do is fall down on the sofa and stay there until the next feeding/burping/diaper change/temper tantrum. However, for all intents and purposes I'm now a full-time mom and housewife (barring the 6 days I'll be finishing up at work over the next 4 weeks), and I've had to readjust my paradigm - if you'll excuse the buzzword. If I don't manage to get stuff done around the house my husband will have to do it, and that's not fair. He's so amazing in so many ways - he already cooks 90% of the time, doesn't mind doing the dishes (although I'm slowly starting to take on that duty), he's charming, funny, is careful of my feelings (most of the time ;-] ), and not only entertains the baby for me when he gets home from work so I can have some "me time", but he takes the night shift with him so I can get sleep, and so he can bond with his son. Also, he took such wonderful care of me during and after my pregnancy that now I want to take care of him. He's incredibly understanding when I don't get as much done as I would have liked because the baby was being demanding, but I have higher expectations of myself. According to my foolish ideals I should be able to do it all while wearing high heels and a poofy skirt - baby in one hand, wooden spoon in the other. I realize that I've set a ridiculous standard for myself, but I want to be an incredible wife and mother, and I have this unshakable visual of Donna Reed burned into my frontal lobe. Maybe I can convince myself that the modern Donna Reed would totally be rocking the yoga pants/t-shirt/headband combo, and not bothering to vacuum because it startles the baby. Or maybe not...

Mommy brain

I didn't think there could be anything worse than pregnancy brain, but there is - mommy brain. I lose track of what I'm saying while I'm saying it, I have nightmares about leaving the baby in a public restroom, and I get great ideas for blog posts only to find that I've forgotten them by the time I open up the laptop. Granted, lots of women have it worse than I - I've never left the house without pants (though I have left the house without brushing my teeth or hair), and I haven't actually left the baby in a public restroom, but for someone who is a type A- personality (think type A without the competitiveness) turning into such a scatterbrain has started to really mess with my psyche. I'm combating it the only way I know how - with lists. I've begun making a to-do list every day, and I cross things off when I get them done. Everything goes on the list - from "wipe kitchen counters" to "eat". You would think that the body's natural alert system (hunger) would be enough of a reminder to feed my face, but no - I just get used to my stomach growling and then wonder later why I feel so faint. The list has really helped me stay on track, and makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something instead of just wandering aimlessly through the house marveling at all the things that need to be done.

Now if only I can remember where I left it...

Poop.

Yes, poop. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that becoming a mother meant that such an enormous amount of my time would be spent on poop. How much there is, how much there isn't, what it smells like, what it looks like, how often it appears, and my favorite - when it doesn't. Every mom I've talked to has a story about the time her child stopped pooping, and What Happened Next. These tales generally culminate in the Biggest Blowout Ever (my good friend's daughter had poop coming out of her sleeves!), but I managed to produce a kid who screams bloody murder if he misses one poop - thereby saving me from the grand finale.

Lucky, lucky me.

From accountant to human burp rag

Hello, you can call me mom. Please do, as a matter of fact, maybe that way I'll get used to hearing it. I'm sure eventually I'll be whipping my head around in response to every "MOMMY!" heard across the grocery store, but for now my new boss is only (almost) four months old, and his highest form of communication is "scuuu-uh-uh-uh-REEEEEEECH!! Eh, eh, eh, eh, eeeeeeeee, oo, oo, oo, oo, mmmmMMMMmmmmmm". Now, I've had less intelligible exchanges over the years at work, so I'm not particularly bothered, but it will be nice when he can at least sort of communicate his needs so I'm not just guessing all the time.

Though I'm still technically on maternity leave, I am about to become a stay-at-home-mom, and I'm terrified. Not only will I miss the adult conversation, but I love my chosen profession. Also, our income will be cut nearly in half, and we have to some do major cutbacks and budgeting, but every time I look in my baby's eyes I know we're making the right decision. He needs mommy - not money.

Know anyone who wants to buy a townhouse? Maybe pay off my car? No? Bummer.