Posted June 14, 2009on:
So yesterday I went to the BlogHerVanCity thing and met some frabjous (and hot*) people, some of whom I’ve been chatting, emailing and tweeting with for months. Kind of a reverse one-night stand, if you will. The poptart slept all of the way there even though I strolled her down the torn-up Granville street that has no sidewalks except packed gravel and from one noisy location to another. Then she slept part of the way through the thing, and snuggled with Mr. Lady, ate, then fell asleep again shortly before we left. She sqwaked in the car a bit on the way back and then fell asleep until we got home.
And I met Susan from 5 minutes for mom who (is fabulous and wonderful and I really like her even though we only talked for about 10 seconds), who told me in no uncertain terms and possibly more than once how put-together, calm and organized I am going out with a four-week old. I thanked her profusely.
Because it is not true. By a long shot.
When I got home, the poptart woke up, we had company over and I ended up nursing her all evening, most of it upstairs in the nursery. Darren came up once to check on me and I snarled at him. I went to bed after I nursed her down even though company was still here.
Today, I have been crying quite a bit. Some days are good; some are not so good. Earlier in the week, I tweeted: “today is a hard day” because it was and I spent most of that day crying (she stayed up til 3am. Enough said)
I don’t sleep more than 2 hours at a stretch** (lack of shadows? That’s foundation and concealer and transluscent powder and some interesting eye makeup to make everything lighter – thank you, What Not to Wear). Even when the poptart sleeps longer, I get up every 2 hours, on the dot, to check her. I also lucked out in that I dropped the pregnancy weight within 10 days and can fit into last year’s summer clothes (that lack of muffin top? that’s a pair of pants where the waist doesn’t actually touch my skin unless I bend over or lean back or to the side).
So I take Susan’s words about being put together as a great compliment.
One of the things I tell my swim instructor candidates is if you’ve got a gap in your lesson plan, fake it. DO SOMETHING until you figure it out. Anything. Do something you did before, or try something new. Preferably, try something new that’s not too far beyond the limits of what your swimmers can do.
In other words, fake it til you make it.
So, although its easier to stay home, I go out: to the store, the library, the doctor, coffee and walks with other moms. And I plaster on makeup and a smile and I fake it. Because if I don’t fake it, for while, I won’t ever do it.
And so last night, although I felt left out of the conversation because I had to feed the Poptart, I mourned the loss of my previous life. As an ex’s mother used to say: life BC – before children. At the same time, this is so much better, in so many ways, even if I have to fake it for awhile:
*Hopefully Mr. Lady will let me keep my teeth for that.
**Yes, yes, I know. Sleep when the baby sleeps – not happening. That advice is a load of shit. If I’m still having this issue at the end of the month at the 6 week post-partum check, I’ll mention it to my doctor and see what he can do. And yes, Darren helps out, but really, he can’t lactate and she likes the boob.
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