WORKY WORK, BUSY BEE! (part the first)

Chapter One: Rough Day

Yesterday I had a Rough Day. It was not really back to the depressive thoughts, although they seemed to be radioing in from Nebraska. "Hey! Remember us? You're not good enough!" And I was like: "shut up! I tune out your radio station TURD, depressive thoughts!" But it was more of an "I feel sort of nutty stuck in this house and I can't get anything 'done'" Rough Day.

Now let me explain about Getting Things Done. Often when a new mom complains of not getting anything done, by "anything" she may mean:

Article for magazine publication
Writing an email
Preparing a meal (which could involve turning on a stove or just eating crackers)
Taking a shower
Going pee
Walking into another room to get something
Wiping her nose

So don't judge someone by thinking: hey, she (or he) is taking care of the kid, so if he's still alive, mission accomplished. It is a very important job! Caring for a baby/kid! But if you live your average American life, some other things eventually have to be done. Like clean off a table, or run a load of laundry. And sometimes your husband asks you to do something, like autopsy a dental bill. And then you have no Internet access and you can't figure out why and without Internet you can't find the phone number for the dental insurance provided through husband's employer without the Internet and your husband won't return your calls.* And none of your nursing tank tops or breast pads are clean. And you want to leave the house, but it requires 47 individual processes and when you're done with those you have to change his diaper. Again.

You can see where this is going--I got really frustrated, left my husband a snippy email and finally FINALLY! Made it out of the house, to Green Lake, only wept a bit in the car, thanks be it wasn't raining out, and walked around said lake. The first mile I walked the angry walk, and passed everyone walking in the same direction, even though I was pushing a stroller and they were wearing fitness gear and sporting iPods. I was wearing corduroy maternity pants because they were the only pantaloon item that did not require me walking into another room or doing another load of laundry lord love a duck. After a mile, I'd walked out most of the angry, and then the lack of a true meal all day (it was about 2:00) hit me like a ton of bricks, and I rested on a bench and considered summoning a cab back to my car. But I'd left without my cell phone. Remembered it at the door but thought : I cannot go back into the house for one more thing or steam will start coming out of my ears like Yosemite Sam.

*he's in the middle of the worst poo storm that's ever occurred in his 8 years with this company

Chapter Two: (coming soon--promise--got to get the wee lad to sleep!)