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Issue 3
May 7, 2004

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.

she she me sponsor: One Fine Baby
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