I survived my first week back at work. Monday was unbearable. I just missed her so much. The nanny started texting me photos, and I don’t know if that helped or made it worse. On one hand, it’s nice to see my kid still alive (and happy too) but on the other hand, it made me miss her more. It was all I could do to stay busy and not think about it. I didn’t cry, which was pretty difficult. Even when I was pumping in a conference room, feeling super emotional and vulnerable and stupid, as I always do when I’m pumping. (There’s no dignity in watching your niples get all stretched out and barely squirt any milk. Plus, I was paranoid someone was going to walk in on me.) It’s just not fair that we have to pay someone to spend 37 ½ hours a week with our child, while we don’t get that much. Plus, we get the grumpy hours. DH gets the joyful morning hours, when she’s her smiliest. But since I have to get up at 5am (ugh!) and little C isn’t awake yet, I don’t get any time with her in the morning. Nor do I get to breastfeed her. And when I pick her up at the end of the day, she instantly cries. What the hell is that? Thanks a lot, traitor. And for the next 3 hours, she tells us exactly what she thinks of us before bedtime, when demon baby makes an appearance. (She’s teething! At 3 months! I don’t mind her being ahead of the curve in other areas, but this had better not mean she’s going to get her period at 8.)
In her first week with the nanny, little C learned how to suck on a pacifier (mixed feelings about that one), drink 3-3.5 ounces of formula per feeding, eat every 3 hours and nap for 1-2 hours twice a day. Of course, we’re messing all that up on the weekends because she’s all “Oh, you guys think I’m on a routine? Think again!” Her naps with us have been micro naps as usual. We ae making progress on the formula amounts though. The pacifier? Not really helping, unless you hold it in her mouth for her. Sorry, nanny, you’ll have to start over on Monday. (Although it’s apparently not hard for her. She’s all “She’s such a great baby. I just set her down and she goes right to sleep until I have to wake her up over 2 hours later.” I love the chick, but sometimes I want to punch her face for knowing how to work my kid better than me. I’m joking. Mostly. She’s amazing. And she’s taking our baby out and about, something I wasn’t good at when I was home with her. (The world is a big, bad, scary place and there’s so many dangers out there – I’ll just stay inside and snuggle my baby, thankyouverymuch.) They visited an indoor playground, road on a toy train and saw a puppet show this weekend. Exposing her to the world is only going to help her grow.
Last night , we packed up the family and went to check out a family friendly Oktoberfest. Not before I had my own tantrum about how I couldn’t get C to sleep and therefor it would be the worst idea ever to take her out and stimulate her. Thankfully DH insisted because it was actually pretty nice. We walked around the street, ate brats and had a beer (well, I did – ok, fine, I had a wine too — and man, it was GOOD) and met up with some friends. Little C had a meltdown as we left the house, and as it approached her bedtime. Nothing ends the fun faster than a kid who’s letting you know “I’m really F-ing tired, you guys, and you better come up with something to soothe me fast or you’re in for it.” But once we got her in the car and on the freeway, she was out. Whew. Seemed hardly worth the gas, but making a trip out as a family without casualties is good practice.
Before the festival, I went for my first run/walk in many, many months. (I got out of the house, guys! All by myself! Even when my baby was being all “look at me, I’m so adorable, I’m going to charm you with my smiles,” I left.) And by run/walk, I mean barely jog/spirited shuffling. I went 1.5 miles in my not-so-great neighborhood. Some thoughts along the way:
1. TNT by AC/DC is the perfect pace for me at this stage.
2. Two of my body parts hurt. I’ll let you guess which ones.
3. I need a more supportive sports bra. (Oh, did I give away one of #2?)
4. I only got startled by 6 dogs this time – progress!
5. I didn’t see any dirty needles. Progress?
6. House with the plastic flamingos – I love you.
7. I suppose I should be bring my phone and ID when I do this. That’s the responsible I’m-now-a-parent thing to do, right? Oh, no. Does that mean I’ll have to use a fannypack? (shudder)
8. Next time, I won’t wear black.
9. What are goosebumps a sign of when you’re sweating? Dehydration? Shock?
10. I’d rather be home snuggling my baby.
Look out, preggo clothes, your days are numbered!
You’re <this close> to giggling. You do this squeel thing when you’re happy. We know that’s close to a laugh. Man are we going to melt when you laugh. Your smile lights up your whole face and we eat it up like candy. Let’s hope you never discover the power of your smile. We’ll be toast.