The last six weeks I've been in nothing but newborn la-la land. Okay, and also 2-year-old world, but you know. I've not needed to know the day of the week. I've not needed to get out of my pajamas if I didn't feel like it. My kids could hang out in pj's all day, too. Heck. If we weren't going anywhere, then why not?
I often had no idea what the date was. I'd get surprised then excited by Facebook statuses saying it was Friday, because then it meant a weekend home with my Daddy. My house has been strewn with baby blankets. Pacifiers. Swaddles. Diapers. Wipes. Within an arms reach, anywhere, you can find all the above items.
I let myself have that time on purpose. I knew I'd be sleep deprived (still am). I knew that adjusting to another person wouldn't be easy for me. I knew that I'd need some sort of time to just do nothing (ha, I'm laughing as I re-read this at 'nothing', because it's like A WHOLE LOT OF STUFF for being 'nothing'.) I took off from my Church duties, teaching Sunday school, setting up communion, and doing announcements. I wanted to be able to do nothing but focus on my babies.
So I did.
And then six weeks flew by in a flash. And last week I started back to work. And I've touched briefly on this before, but I work from home, however, a job that requires me to know the day of the week, check my emails throughout the day, and write coherently. One where one day a week I go in for a meeting, where I have to dress like a human, and talk to other adults, and not about brands of sippy cups or my child's sleep habits. You know.
And then Emeline started swim lessons last week. Where I have to pack us all up weekly (in the morning), with a load of swim gear in tow, and arrive, you know, ON TIME.
And then I went and signed her up for the 2.5 year preschool program at the school down the road. So, two days a week, sandwiched around swim class, I'll be dropping off and picking up my first baby girl at designated times. I'm certain my just-rolled-out-of-bed look isn't suitable for preschool dropoff (although I'm told otherwise ;)). Okay, it may be suitable for dropoff--but pickup?
That's four out of five days a week now that in the mornings I have to get me and a small herd of children ready and out of the house. Four days a week we don't get to linger in pj's. Four days a week I'll certainly lose my mind and never make it on time, anywhere.
My short and sweet little 'maternity leave' was nice, but it's back to reality, being timely, knowing what day it is, and heck, the date, too.
Bye bye maternity leave. Hello real life.