I'm a little behind. This entry is out of order, written January 1st or so...
I finally put away the maternity clothes. Granted, this was spurred on by our impending move, but I've decided that the old wardrobe isn't so bad. In that big Rubbermaid bin, though, were the greatest pair of jeans a girl could ask for. Who knew a stretchy waistband was so perfect?
As I bemoan the jeans' hibernation, I thought I would organize some random thoughts of the last few weeks.
Apparently, I was accumulating a stockpile of sleeping hours pre-baby. I was a champion sleeper. And in tandem with that fact, who knew that I could function with so few sleeping hours. Of course, I say that having just snapped at my mom.
I love TV, but I find myself caring less about my sitcoms, distracted by the coo, laugh, and thousands of facial expressions of a 2 month old. She is excelling in her ability to be captivating.
Lots of things are pending--a move, return to work, though it's a new job, and daycare for baby girl. My mind is whirling and avoiding deep thought--push aside those thoughts and let me enjoy the present.
Note: who knew that I could type with one hand?
My brain has never been so scrambled. I feel as though I have acquired a deficit in attention and concentration and memory. I used to be able to remember long strings of numbers, people's names, my name, etc., but no more. Maybe I'm not functioning as well as I gave myself credit for earlier in this entry...
I am remembering a verbal utterance I had during delivery. I became terribly upset by the woman with 19 children--the one in this century--this century of baby-prevention knowledge. I stated, (okay, my voice was more "raised" than "stated"), "why on earth does she keep doing this?"
Note: Myth busted--you forget labor and the pain. Untrue.
Now I think, her brain must be mush, along with, perhaps, other parts of her body. (Stephanie, that's mean, take that out.)
I wonder if she has a scrapbook for each child. I am not succeeding with putting one together for my one child. It is all in a box. I need to get a bigger box.
I wonder if she remembers every child's name on cue. I took way too long trying to remember my child's name one day. Maybe that's why people get tattoos of their loved ones' names.
I wonder if she takes a shower every day. I wonder if she has time to watch TV. I wonder if she remembers to do the "adult" things--pay bills, do her taxes, go to the bank, go to the store. I wonder if she gets to sleep. Ever.
I think I'll quit wondering. Let me go hug my baby--if I can remember where I put her.