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56 Hour Work
Week
 I
must take some time to discuss the fact that I have become a milk
cow. Having delivered my
precious angel exactly four weeks ago, I am now in the throes
of new motherhood. And while I am still determined to introduce
New
Mom Chic to the otherwise New Mom Exhausted, I must admit that
time (or the lack thereof) seems to work against my chicness.
It dawned on
me earlier this week when my husband came home from work and asked,
"What did you do today?" As a girl-on-the-go who prides
herself on checking things off a long list, this question really
hit me between my already-crossed eyes. What did I do today?
Hmmmm... Can't be sure... Though, I'm quite sure I have been very
busy. Certainly, too busy to a) get out of pajamas; b) brush hair;
c) make bed.
I looked at
my husband and thought and thought. I remember getting up. I remember
latching my little prince onto my very sore and about-to-rupture-due-to-fullness
breast. I remember Katie Couric looked really good on the Today
show. I remember a bath - for the baby, not me. And then it gets
hazy. I remember more exploding breasts and more latching on...
But surely that was not my whole day. Which got me to thinking...
what do I do all day?
Well, my fellow
cross-eyed/feeling-thick-around-the-middle friends, I figured it
out. Or more truthfully, my seasoned mother-friend told me. "You're
a milk cow," she said when I complained about my lack of productivity.
"It takes 45 minutes to an hour to feed. You do it 8 - 10 times
a day. Do the math. It's a full time job." And how right she
was. Offering even more clarity, she added, "And you can't
do anything while you're nursing - except talk on the phone or watch
TV. You've become the stereotype. Deal with it."
She's right,
of course. I tried to read Bergdorf
Blondes while nursing. Didn't work. The
Little Prince ended up gasping for air from my armpit. I tried
emailing while nursing. Didn't work. The frustration of single finger
typing is worse than doing nothing and will drive you further insane.
I tried painting my nails. Disaster. The only real option, other
than the stereotypical soap operatic temptations (which I refuse)
is daydreaming, meditating, praying and singing. The good news is
that these time-killers work wonders for the haven't-showered-in-days,
as you can really escape your current wide-middle woes for a prettier
(if imaginary) place of peace. This morning, after grounding myself
in deep prayer, I sang Barry
Manilow's Looks Like We Made It. The Petit Prince cooed
as he sucked my scabby nipples. (I don't think his ears have developed
enough to know tone-deafness. As such, I'm practically Beyonce to
him.) And as I daydreamed of being on stage in a sassy
little dress and shoes
belting out the chorus to an audience of celebrities, I think I
caught a glimmer of a smile from my greatest creation of all.
And it's then
that you know what you've been doing all day. You've been feeding
a life. Building a family. Making a home. And while it's perfectly
normal to want to get out to your errands and life as it was, remember
that these days are numbered. Before you can say 'saggy boobs',
your little angel will be off to school -- asking you to drop them
off three blocks away so they can walk up to their friends on their
own. So enjoy the limelight while you can.
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