|Some birthday fun with the hubs. |
We still try to get out.
It's comical how long it takes to try to write something new now that I have the wee one. I have accidentally created a schedule that starts the moment I speed out of work and race towards the smiles and giggles of my Macklin. The marathon runs as follows:
- 4pm, three trips to and from the car to unload work bags, pump bag, milk bag and Macklin.
- Race to put the day's gold booty of breastmilk in the fridge and throw all the bottles and pump attachments in the sink before someone becomes too anxious to get out of the car seat.
- Hurry to entertain Mack with the ceiling fan while I change clothes, wash off the day's makeup, brush my teeth (Someone gets a little bored with this part of his day.)
- Try to get him to let me snuggle him, which instantly results in milk factory action.
- Play time is next: practice rolling over (not me, Macklin), grabbing toys, sitting up, etc. He quickly tells you when he is done with it (there is a theme here.)
- Wash all the bottles and pump attachments and begin steaming them, which goes on through the evening.
- Start dinner prep and explain the hows and whys to cutting vegetables and thawing meat. He loves to help and really hates having to sit in his chair while I do all the work.
- Someone gets hungry. I have chips and salsa and feed Mack rice cereal.
- 5:45-6:15pm we go outside and sit on the porch or walk around the backyard to feel the breeze, touch the flowers and giggle on the hammock. Someone gets bored and cranky.
- Bedtime routine begins.
- 7pm, someone is sleeping like a baby. I wish it were me.
- Lay out frozen breastmilk for the next day's bottles and sigh at the depleting stash.
- Finish steaming all the baby's china.
- All that dinner prep we started, yeah, I usually put it back in the fridge and pour a bowl of cereal.
If it was a really good day, I get a load of laundry in and it's almost dry. And on amazing days I get to have dinner with my husband or go to the grocery store. He usually pays me on those kinds of days, and you better believe that I take what I can get for my services while he is out landscaping.
(Really though, the money usually gets left on the counter and he takes it back to go and get us takeout.)
My bedtime is 9pm and I always plan on getting up twice during the night and then out the door for work by 5:30am. There is no room for running off the baby weight or reading a book anymore.
P.S. Sorry this has turned into a mommy blog. It's my life.
P.P.S. I have no idea how multiple children fit into this schedule, but we can't even talk about that out loud yet. My husband would kill me.
P.P.P.S. I spent so much time filling you in on the comics of a breastpump in Things I've Learned so let me tell you that I now feel like a prisoner to it. More to come on that later.
|He is the cutest chubbawub.|
|See! Totally the cutest.|