Thursday, March 8, 2007

I Am Woman, Hear Me Whimper

Last night my husband had to work late. Here’s how I spent my evening, and why I would never make it as a single mother:

  • Spend 50 minutes fighting my way home through 24 miles of traffic. (Where are all you people going? Where? And why now?)
  • Retrieve mail. Delighted to see pile of shiny new catalogs and only one bill.
  • Enter home. Greet baby and mother-in-law. Begin dinner (chicken parmigiana from scratch, thank you very much).
  • Strip off jewelry and sweater. Prepare baby’s bath. Bathe, dry, lotion and dress baby in clean jammies.
  • Finish making dinner while mother-in-law feeds and entertains baby.
  • Shovel forkfuls of food in mouth so can relieve mother-in-law of baby-care duties.
  • Walk/bounce/sway/rock baby to sleep.
  • Hold baby for hour and a half until she stops flailing her arms about and alternately spitting out/wanting me to replace her pacifier.
  • Creep up stairs, put baby in crib, turn on monitor and noise machine (tired of “Ocean” so change to “Rain”).
  • Change into pajamas, take monitor downstairs.
  • Call aging German shepherd up from basement. Feed said German shepherd.
  • Empty dishwasher, load dishwasher, start dishwasher, clean kitchen.
  • Go to basement to retrieve dry clothes from dryer and transfer wet clothes from washer to dryer.
  • Carry pile of clean, dry clothes up stairs in one hand and dog’s water bowl in the other.
  • Trip on stairs and spill dog’s water all over clean clothes.
  • Throw clothes on basement floor, retrieve empty water bowl, begin crying.
  • Take dog outside on leash, as we have no fence and neighbors allow insane cocker spaniel to roam free. Wait five minutes in pajamas in 30-degree weather for dog to relieve himself. Bring dog back inside.
  • Make enough baby bottles to get us through until morning, as rest of bottles are still in dishwasher.
  • Eat 1/3 of package of vanilla sandwich cream cookies while watching “The Sopranos.” Continue crying.
  • Gather shiny new catalogs (Restoration Hardware, Pottery Barn and Crate & Barrel all in one day!), discarded jewelry, baby monitor and dog and head upstairs. Mostly stop crying.
  • Brush teeth, floss, wash face and apply no less than 4 facial products promising various age-defying/wrinkle-fighting/acne-eliminating/skin-brightening effects.
  • Lay on bedroom floor in attempt at practicing relaxing yoga poses. Notice water stains on ceiling near skylight. Convinced house is aging faster than I am.
  • Crawl in bed with stack of shiny new catalogs. Begin flipping through Restoration Hardware offerings. Feel lust for pretty things will never own. Glance at own hand-me-down, mismatched bedroom furniture in disgust.
  • Hear baby making grunting noises through monitor. Put on sweatshirt and slippers. Wait two minutes to make sure baby is actually awake.
  • Gather baby, blanket and pacifier from crib. Head downstairs as husband is walking in front door. Because I really know how to give my man heartfelt “welcome home,” start crying again.
  • Turn “The Sopranos” back on. Heat bottle. Change baby’s diaper. Talk nonsense to baby while she flashes huge, gummy smile.
  • Feed baby. Notice dark floatie in bottle. Freak out and hand bottle to husband, who determines floatie is a piece of lettuce that got stuck inside bottle in dishwasher.
  • Heat second bottle. Feed baby.
  • Refuse husband’s kind offer to take over. (Can handle this. Can handle this, damn it!)
  • Walk/bounce/sway/rock baby to sleep. Continue crying, but quietly now, as baby sleeping.
  • Creep up stairs, lay baby in crib.
  • Collapse into own bed. Fall asleep before can start crying again.


Blobby said...

crying? can you have post-partem depression?

or was it just the Sopranos?

Kris said...

It might have something to do with averaging 4 hours of sleep a night for the past 3-1/2 months.

Blobby said...

oh boo hoo. try 4-5 hrs sleep for the last 4 yrs. :)