Random Thoughts That Could be Blog Posts

Random thoughts that could be blog posts if I weren't so lazy:

1.  Laundry service is amazing, stupdenous, revolutionary.  Bundle clothes; they are picked up and delivered clean and folded in 2 days.  (it was a gift)

2.  We cleaned a lot of shizz out of our house because I was overwhelmed.  Extra towels?  Gone.  Unplayed-with toys? Gone.  Fancy glasses?  Gone.  All the clothes I might wear someday?  Gone.

3.  There's a grilled cheese restaurant in my neighborhood that is a revelation.  I ate there today.  Totally ruined any hopes of a gluten-free day.

4.  I haven't had a haircut in over 7 months.  I know this because my tiny baby isn't so tiny anymore and is 6.5 months old and I last got it cut well before I had the tiny baby.

5.  I really want a tiny little stud in my nose.  I know.  I'm 36 and it's a bit ridiculous, but I really want one.  I mean, why not?  Will it ruin my reputation at work?  Does it cost a million dollars?  Will my kids try to rip it out?

6.  We agreed to not use our phones at all in the evenings when the kids are awake for Lent and it's harder than one might think.  Mainly because I have a small addiction.

7.  My sweet 6 month old keeps teasing us by randomly sleeping all night and then returning to his one time per night waking.  It's a cruel trick that leaves hope in my heart.  I love sleep.

Returning to Work. And a Gift

Yep.  I'm back at work.  Full-time.  With three children.  Whoop.  I get the standard questions that I have no idea how to answer:  are you glad to be back at work? how is it leaving your baby?  how is it going with three kids?

Here's the truth.  There are days that leaving my babies really, really bites the big one.  BUT most days it is just fine.  It is rewarding to me to have quiet moments where I'm only worrying about myself and not three (four, if you count the husband) other people.  I feel like that statement exposes the dark underbelly of parenting, but I promised the truth.  So it's a conundrum--I miss my kids like crazy during the day but am also thankful for moments to myself (hello, using the bathroom without an audience).  I also know they are in good, safe hands, where, true story, Brooklyn didn't want to leave yesterday (that broke my heart just a wee bit).

The other odd thing is that I am way more tired back at work than during maternity leave.  I got a nap all but 3, maybe 4, days of my leave, which kept me sane.  Unfortch, nap time isn't included in my workday, but if you know my employer, put in a good word for it, m'kay?  So there you have it.  Not always pretty, but it's a pretty good life.  Even better (this is where the gift comes in) is that the tiniest of my tribe has been sleeping from 8:30ish until 3:30-4:00am.  That's seven hours, my friends.  Seven hours, roughly three of which I am not sleeping, but still, of sleep.  Seriously amazing.  I think it took Elliott six months for that feat, so gift for mom, indeed. 

Wishing you all health, happiness and controlled chaos. 

That's Croupy! (And I'm Gross)

Colds and croup abound at our house, which means even less sleep than usual.  I gave Elliott a Tootsie Pop for a snack and slept--more than once--in the same spot where the tiniest of the tribe either puked or peed, or both.  Yep.  That stereotype of the mom who never changes her clothes, washes her hair or leaves the house and people (me included) wonder what she does all day?  That just happened here.

Friday!

It is a sure change of life events when I look forward to Friday nights because my husband will stay up late with the baby and let me sleep in on Saturday morning.  I am having a glass of wine to make it seem more like I'm living it up.

My husband is pretty awesome.  Especially on Friday nights.  And Saturdays.  The rest of the week I stare at him in the wee hours of the night while he is peacefully sleeping with hate jealousy in my heart.

I'm Still Standin'

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Oh wait, I just slipped into 80's music recitation.  Please forgive.

I'm two weeks into this mom of three gig and let me tell ya', it's not for the faint of heart.  Mainly I think that's because I suck at sleep deprivation.  The Coup de Gras was spending a whole day by myself with all three at home.  Mmmhmm.  I even got a NAP.  I felt pretty amazing.  Unfortch, the lack of sleep is a cumulative thing and leaves me feeling dull and a bit maudlin.  It also makes me understand how people with less support and less life experience shake their babies.  My solution is to be topless the majority of the time (sorry if that's TMI) and put that baby in bed with me.  It's about survival.

So this has turned from a post about being the mom of 3 under 4 into a post about how I am not a fan of the newborn stage of life.  Blasphemy, I know.  As mothers we're supposed to being a blissed-out haze of love with our wee ones, but in my life I am disheveled, chronically exhausted and ever-waiting for some kind of reinforcement that this little being that is dominating my life actually appreciates my sacrifices.  I'm not talking about a well-worded note, I'm just saying a smile would be nice.  Until then, I'll be plodding along in a sleep-deprived haze trying to find something half-way intelligent to relate in adult conversation.

I've started a campaign like that for LGBT teens, only for moms of newborns:  "It Gets Better."  Okay, really the campaign is only for me.

I'm tired and not because of what you're thinking. . .

I can't blame this one on pregnancy.  It's the Olympics.  I get sucked in and totally fall for the random splits in programming NBC uses even though I can easily find out the results on any news media site of my choosing.  I'm an Olympics-addict.  I blame my parents.  Because you know, having someone to blame totally makes it better. 

She's a Rebel.

It got real today.  The sweet child of mine who has peacefully slept without issue the majority of her short 10 months is rebelling.  Sleep is over-rated in Brooklyn's book.  Over-rated for the past three days.  My assumption is that she would much rather be pulling my ear, sharing her paci or just generally being held while sleeping rather than rest peacefully in her crib.  What's the harm, one might ask?

The result:

She's a delicate flower full of modesty, just like her mom.    And I don't know what it means that she looks more like me when she's crying.

I hope my baby likes caffeine. . .

Things that are getting me through the workday, in no particular order:

*Purchased on my way to work, even though I was running a tad late, thanks to needing to watch "New Olivia" and a cranky 3-month old.

*Kept in the fridge in my office, sanity comes in small, bite-sized pieces.


*My savior nemesis. My friend, Deana, has been known to say that "Diet Coke is harder to quit than crack." Rest assured this is through no personal experience for her with crack, she just means that if she smoked crack and had to pick which one to chose, it would probably be the crack because it might be easier. Got it?