The first time I looked into the mirror today, it was 8:50 a.m. I had been out of bed for over two hours, and I realized that, not for the first time, I had went to bed without washing my face. As yesterday was a work day, this meant that I had a nice ring of mascara around both eyes and black goop in each corner. Pete never says anything; he acts like it's not there and loves me anyway, even kissing me goodbye. Now that I think about it, though, that little look he gives me sometimes, the one where he shrugs with his mouth; the one that says "Oh, I hope you are OK"; the one that is sympathetic and concerned; the one that often makes me feel resentful because it says that I am not holding it together--that look?
That look could actually be "My goodness, you look like crap."
Today is a not-at-work day. Yesterday was an at-work day. Last night was Pete Rehearsal, tonight it Pete Gig, tomorrow is Pete Gig. So I went to bed last night a little miffed, feeling like I have three jobs, and I woke up mad and vented by swearing at one of the cats--Hazel, or "Chunky Miss" as I now call her.
"What's she doing?" asked Pete?
"Pissing me off," I replied.
It's just that I went to bed yesterday with a head swimming with today's chores, and when I got up (note: I did not say "sleep" or "woke up"), those chores were right there still. Firstly, and most importantly, I needed to pump. I went five days last week, with Finn and not pumping, and my extra supply dropped. When that happens, and the boy starts drinking more when I am away, Milk Paranoia sets in. In order to pump this morning, I needed to wash bottles. In order to wash bottles, the sink needed to be empty. So I did some adult dishes (that adjective no longer connotes anything dirty, but that's another blog), then washed the bottles. By this time, Pete and Finn were in the living room for their morning play. I cleaned out our little stove-top espresso maker and got the coffee going. While that was brewing, I did some more adult dishes. I dressed and distributed the coffee and checked the news, email, and my favorite discussion board (Hi, AAC!), while drinking my coffee.
Pete gave Finn some bananas and millet cereal, I did some more dishes and put on some more coffee. Clean up the pump parts, take the fussy boy, nurse him, say goodbye to Pete, put sleeping boy in basket, look in mirror, and here I am.
I did not type this when I wrote it because sometimes that wakes Finn up. And I had to chant the opening lines of this over and over again in my head while I got the baby laundry started. Even now, I am evaluating my to-do list for what can be done with him, using one hand; what can be done with him in the backpack; and what can only be done while he sleeps in his basket. Writing this cut into chore time, and I should not be doing it, even though it is one thing I can only do when he is napping, but that gets into the concept of "me time," and that, too, is another blog.