Big Box Store....

My mission today... take Luna, aka 'Looney Tunes' to Day Care/ Bath.  Then go to visit hubby at hubby's office. Last, go to big box store with huge list. Return home and put perishables into fridge.

All with Little Blue Bird in tow.

We can DO this!

Timing is critical.  Little feathered creature must be recently napped and fed moments prior to her encasement into the highly suspicious and dreaded contraption called a 'car seat'. Plus have Friday chores that MUST be done prior to leaving the house as  I know I will not do them when I return.

7am... she awakens.  Change, feed, snuggle, dress in day clothes, feed, change, tuck back in for am nap.  It is 8:30am.

GO!

Downstairs, push power button for pre-prepped coffee.  Shovel yogurt into mouth while it brews.

Crap -forgot am weigh in.  Go upstairs. Subtract yogurt...gah... no bueno.  Move on!

Try to scold Luna into eating - receive mournful squeaking.  Give up and have a cup of coffee on floor with Princess Buttercup to convince her to eat.

9am... Gather, place all necessary items into car (i.e. extra outfit x2 (including a top for me), baby sling, four legged friend hammock and leash etc.)

Dress, apply mascara, brush hair.   Empty garbage, double check / add to grocery list, water house plants, do last night's dishes, clean coffee pot, update/ balance monthly bills, switch laundry, empty little box, vacuum -

10:50am... Hear stirrings of starvation and Luna runs downstairs to inform me her charge is awake.

Change, feed, snuggle, play, feed, change, tuck into car seat.

11:50am Load car with infant and canine. Lose more of hearing from outrage of one, celebration from the other.

12:10pm Doggie Daycare.  Sit in car extra two minutes to gather resolve.

Get Luna out first.  She is a twirling ball of ear piercing fur attached to a leash.  Extract second distressed tragic creature.  Luna tries to reassure her ward and her cold nose is rewarded with increased vocals.

Realize making scene in parking lot...

Haul both into Daycare...

Attendees are 3x usual. Check in machine is down.  Must hand write in.  Put baby seat in crook of arm, hang on to puppy with other, scrawl illegibly time, name, date.  Sampling of 'Communication' with staff below:

"Hi!  This is Luna!  She is here for a half day of daycare and a bath."
"Who again? Moona?"
"Luna!"
"LUNA?"
In reply to her name, Luna stands up, paws on the counter and also answers.
The harried person smiles,
"Oh hi squeaky toy, haven't seen you in well over a month or two." She looks at me, "Baby here yet?"

The giant car seat I am clinging to is clearly not obvious enough. I nod.  Mind you, we are both shouting over barking.  This is freaking tiny girl out and winding Luna to maximum excitement capacity.

I leave with even less hearing.

12:25p Hubby's office.  Baby peacefully asleep.  No evidence of before scenes to explain my tangled hair and disheveled demeanor.  She looks darling with her bow and angelic expression and doesn't stir once for the hour we are there.  Office full of males smile at the little sweet peaceful face.

1:40p I load her into the car to leave and hunger wakes her with vengeance,  Kiss hubby good bye, sit in parking garage and feed her.  Twenty each side plus a pant change.

2:40p Big Box Store.... This was down right entertaining.  First the little blue bird has recently napped and fed and has dry pants.  She is nothing but bright curious eyes.  To prevent the invasion of her space, (and cuz I love that she is so small I can) I carry her in the sling for this expedition.  My list is comprehensive and requires canvasing the nearly the entire joint.  Every single aisle there is an approach and comment.  Naturally the most common one is,  "How old?"

What follows is varied.  Everything from comrades, "I took mine out at 3 weeks!", a frown, "I took mine out only at 12...".

There are questions about her name, how labor was, how much did she weigh at delivery, or now?  Did I get vaccinated for the flu?  Am I going to get her vaccinated too?  Is she sleeping through the night?  Don't let her cry it out! Be sure to let her cry it out!

My favorite?  A Costco employee, "Ma'ma, we don't allow dogs in...."  he glances into the sling, "Oh, right, sorry!"

PS:  I never stopped moving, I smiled and sometimes answered.  Every now and again, someone would get a little too close (really, couple of times folks would just lean right on in to my chest) and sunshine would get nervous.  Each time, I rubbed her back, kissed her face as she searched my face for clues in a response.  She was out by the time we were checking out.

HUGE Shout out to the lady behind me who asked if I needed help unloading and then unloaded my cart before I could accept and then to the lady in the mini van who slammed on her brakes to hustle her hubby out to help me put it all in the car.

4:00p Home, in need a nap and a glass of wine,  I settled for chocolate and a cuddle with the darling daring little bird.  The thing is this.  While the unsolicited advice and judgement was a bit overwhelming, the plethora of genuinely sincere well wishes were bountiful...  I felt empowered.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

But seriously, this was one of the most intimidating days I have ever had.  Interviewing at General Dynamics was easier.  If I can do this, and do it pretty darn ok, then I can do anything.

Hubby was picking up the Luna girl so I could put away perishables

Motherhood/ Labor

Carefully I scrub the sole of my foot smooth.  This three minute shower has it's time allotted carefully; Soap all over, shampoo and conditioner at the same time, maybe shave underarms and at least one minute to scrub my feet.

I make observations and then, like little mice, they run around in my head, scurrying here and there. Unexpectedly showing up and making me jump.  I noticed, while pregnant, many Mom's forget their feet so I had promised myself, not forget mine. Not that my toes are particularly 'pretty' but they take me everywhere I have ever been.

Motherhood... it is the strangest difficult transition imaginable.  My relationship with everything is changed and I see myself, and everyone around me, with a different kind of awareness.

In labor, the women who aided us blew my, already rose-colored perception of women away. Women can be lifelines of a strength and grace I do not comprehend. Sometime between my dilation of 6 to 9 1/2, I lost myself until slender hands grasped mine.   She pulled me out of the tunnel.

I believe all living things are comprised of Four; body (instinct, physical reactions such as flight or fight), mind (logic, reason), emotion (love, hate, compassion) and that indefinable essence, perhaps something called the soul.

After labor this is no longer a belief.  It is indisputable truth.  I was a passenger and my body had become a stranger's. My body was in control.   This scared the shit out of me,

Funny thing, right?  Not the pain, not watching the mirror -what terrified me was my complete and absolute lack of control over my body.

After, when they handed me this tiny girl, with her dark startled eyes, the flood of recognition in my bones..... my arms closed around her  -I can not express this.  It was all of me, all four parts. Then watching my exhausted and overwhelmed friend, how he both shut out and wrapped his arms around me.... I saw, understood him and accepted.

The first week of postpartum was a blur of hospital and mild shell shock.  Yes I can recite the days and events, I have my memory, it's overwhelmed kaleidoscope of people, pain and dark 2am's looking at her face in wonder and watching my darling husband try to sleep.

Week two was joy and extreme physical awareness.  Not sure why this is when it showed up, a week later, but my body's protests are the second thing I thought about next to her gentle face.

Week three; the reality of parenthood started to set in.  My 'I-Can-Do-This' attitude rallies, pain subsides (comparatively).  I take short walks with little Luna, start to do small chores, walk up the stairs often to recover long lost muscles.  I see the stress on my man, on us and start trying to reconcile it.  This doesn't go well...

Week four.  My body gives me the bird. I wake up with a 103.4 temperature - mastitis.  This is Unholy pain.

Interestingly, I KNEW what was wrong.  I knew it was mastitis.  My body told me what it was.

This pain -, it is in my fingernails, my head is exploding, my eyelashes are scratching my skin, my muscles are pulling my skeleton apart.  THREE days until the temperature begins to recede. The only relief is when I nurse her so I over fed the little blue bird at every opportunity for days.  Relatives helpfully comment daily how 'lucky' I am to stay home for a bit.  I don't understand this observation and the fever makes me foggy and too weak to answer with a biting reply.

Week five was a see-saw.  The benefit of being this ill, was that I sat down for this week.  Really and truly (and finally -as my Mommy said), I sat down. I cuddled, soothed and sat. Too dizzy to argue with my body, my activities were limited to showering and feeding this tiny happy girl.

Hello week six!!  I feel... dare I say it.... better.  Genuinely, everything feels better.  I respect my limits now too. Yesterday afternoon, as I got up to trim the backyard ivy I felt the room tilt slightly. My response? I immediately took off my shoes, went upstairs and took a nap.