While breastfeeding and finalizing a 2500 word term paper and an 18 slide powerpoint I turn to yell at Dexter the puppy who is whining in the kitchen because Dan just left without him. Cohen is still sleeping, yes at 10:19 a.m. Not because I am the worst mother in the world but because I let her stay up until midnigh watching Madagascar - oh wait. Isn't that behavior synonymous with being the worst mother in the world?
Yeah, I might have fallen for that guilt trip on baby number one (putting baby into rocker with binky) but on kid number two (shut up Dexter) your judgement means nothing to me (replace binky). Who am I kidding though, I am a blog read mostly by my loving friends and/or fellow parents who would only judge me out of ear shot (replace binky) and I know that asking for anything more is impossible. (Binky hits floor and crying must be tolerated) I start a new class tonight where I will actually have to enter a class room again. The instructor did not post the syllabus until the day before class and now I have today to write another 1400 word paper. Lame. I am eating a mushy banana. I am weaning off of any type of pain medication but unfortunately the blog is still subject to the aftershocks of bad humor, no humor and rampant crying jags. Mine and the new kid's.
What can I tell you guys, I am swamped and really looking forward to the visitors I still have coming over the next 4-6 weeks. Merrick is my co-pilot. He is on the breast, at the helm, as my one free hand alternates between this soggy banana, a cold cup of coffee (that's right, I went back to the black! The second I was approved for a liquid diet after surgery I sent for an Americano) and the keyboard.
I am engorged in every sense of the word. I am forever embracing every distraction as the reality of two children is so truly overwhelming. Already I can see how times goes faster with two. I am the pong ball, bouncing between Cohen having taught herself to ride her tricycle and Merrick's belly button rot falling off. It was hard enough to keep up with all of Cohen's changes, but now I look left look right look left and all of a sudden my baby is my toddler, my fat belly became my baby, and my body is this slow deflating emotional time bomb that I am kidgloving so that it won't detinate before it is restored to it's previous condition.
On the upside, my birthday is Wednesday. I got myself another DVR. I tried to quit cable cold turkey in my ninth month of pregnancy. What kind of psychotic hormonal bullshit that was. Here's a thought... how about right before I come home from major surgery I cancel my cable. That way I can stare at a fucking wall while I wait to lose my baby weight. What would be better than waking at all hours of the night to feed the new kid, who refuses to stay latched in when I am in the laying down position? Watching local cable at 3 a.m. That isn't Gunsmoke folks, we are talking religious propaganda and infomercials.
I will be 31 years old and I am happy. I have gotten all of my breeding out of the way and it feels really satisfying to close a chapter. Like getting married closed the dating chapter of my life, a huge sigh of relief occurs and is followed by a sense of completion and satisfaction. I can only compare this to catching a great wave. The catch is, you can't sit and relish in it too long because another wave is forming and is on its way to send you crashing into the next part of your future. So I am here, trying to keep my pace up, nursing the new kid, letting the dogs out, taking advantage of Dan the best I can while I still have him at home and (who would have guessed it?) actually getting a blog in. Thanks you guys... for giving me someone to talk to other than Dan who has to listen because he is under contract.
And because the belly button rot has fallen off the new kid got his first bath last night. This is one of the only things I have seen him do off of the boob that does not entail screaming in dissatisfaction.