Today, Victoria is six weeks old. Which also means my maternity leave is half over. And boy am I glad I decided to take the whole twelve weeks.
I simply can’t imagine heading back to work on Monday. Why? Well, first of all, I have no clothes that fit. And I mean none. My husband insisted that I throw out all my fat clothes last year when I got skinny(ish). Which felt very good at the time. But now? I wish I had just one pair of fat pants (or shorts) that fit. Because my skinny clothes? They don’t even fit over my hips at this point (at least not without a lot of uncomfortable gymnastic moves). When I try to button them, the universe just laughs.
But even if I did have the appropriate clothing to wear, I wouldn’t have the appropriate number of brain cells needed to actually do my job. The overwhelming level of sleep deprivation I’m currently suffering from has seen to that. Example? I was trying to think of something clever to say there. But I’ve got nothing.
Funny story? Today, I decided to take the baby with me to Lowes (couldn’t exactly leave her at home, could I?). So I got us both bathed and dressed, got her diaper bag together, unlocked the car and put her inside. At which point I realized I had no idea where I had put my keys.
So I dug around in her car seat. Took it out to see if they were underneath. Dug through the perma-layer of garbage on the floor. Emptied the diaper bag out on to the lawn. Followed by the contents of my purse. I even combed through the grass to see if they had fallen somewhere.
Twenty minutes later, about to give up and call Brian, I happened to look up at the roof of the car. Where my keys sat gleaming, along with the granola bar I had meant to eat before leaving.
Yeah. So I don’t think I’m quite ready to become a fully functional member of society yet.
And even if I was? I don’t think I could bring myself to leave Tori yet. Granted, I lucked out in the childcare arena and found my own personal Mary Poppins (actually, someone even better) to watch her. But I can’t even stand to have her in another room at this point. Never mind a different zip code.
Let’s put it this way. I used to wonder how any sane woman could stand to abandon her career to become a stay at home mom. It boggled my mind. But now I totally get it (and I’m a little jealous of them).
Not that I’m planning on going that route. I absolutely HAVE to work. And I love my job (hear that, coworkers and bosses?). But it’s going to kill me, just a little, the first time I have to leave her (and maybe every day thereafter).
Good thing I still have six weeks to get used to the idea. Maybe by then, I really will be ready to fly the coop and get back to my real life. If nothing else, hopefully by then I’ll have something that buttons…at least with the help of a rubber band.