My injury has thrown quite a wrench in our normal schedule. Since heading to the podiatrist, I have been confined to our bed or couch with my foot elevated all day long. Luckily, I have the world’s best mother in law, and she was here from Wednesday until Saturday morning, basically waiting on my lazy ass hand and foot. And doing my dirty laundry. And chasing my feral child. And changing his poopie diapers. And bathing him. If you ever want to feel like a completely useless nag, have your mother in law replace you for three days. I would have cried but I was too grateful for her indentured servitude.
During that time, Kase and I had to come up with a plan of action for the next three weeks. For the first time in 20 months, our child will go to a DAYCARE. I am coming down with some sort of viral infection just thinking about it. Just kidding. But truly, this is going to really take some getting used to. What do normal people do all day who don’t have jobs and kids?
That wasn’t rhetorical. I’m really asking.
Just last week alone, I was on the horn making call after call trying to set up child care, cancel Gymboree classes and questioning insurance limits. During this time, Colin took to stealing my cell phone, hopping on his ride on race car and having entire conversations while driving. I sternly warned him that texting while driving was absolutely forbidden. He yelled back in response, “BYEEEEE!” Couldn’t tell you if he understood my point or not. He hopped back on another call immediately, “Hi! Blah blah A B C D Y. AH HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
It reminded me of my old job, where most of the day I was either responding to emails or making phone calls. I remember one comment in my yearly review was to be more proactive. All administrative assistants got this comment. It made us laugh of course, because we didn’t have time to be proactive. Our job was to constantly put out fires or start new ones for someone else.
Which is a lot like my life right now. Apparently, I am a reactive parent. Probably most stay at home parents of only children have this luxury: “Hey honey! Did you have a nice nap? Are you hungry? Let’s find something for you to eat? Do you want to play cars? Go to the park? Okay, let’s get dressed then.” We barely have a schedule most days; we just do what we feel like doing. Sometimes that means we stay in all day and never change out of our jammies. We certainly don’t have any systems in place for a mother who is injured and immobile (she might say impotent), a father who works from 7am until 11pm, and a 20 month old toddler who has never stepped foot in an all day daycare program.
We spent this weekend buying lunch boxes and additional sippy cups that most likely will not return to our possession, buying supplies for lunches that don’t require a microwave or refrigerator, washing new crib sheets, and unearthing our diaper bag from storage. We packed said diaper bag and laid out our outfits for the week since we can’t just lounge around the house in our jammies all day watching the Sprout Channel because it is Monday for crying out loud and we like to ease into our week.
It’s not easy. It’s hard to release control to those around me, because after all, I do everything better. Not really. But it is my job. I like to think that after 20 months with my employer, I’ve got it down. But I’ve been pink slipped. Or at least suspended for a month. Quite frankly, it’s horrifying.
All this is to say, I’m out of sorts. I’m looking at three weeks of laying on the couch. I can’t take the free time to clean the house, cook a healthy meal, or catch up on the never ending pile of laundry (despite the five loads my mother in law did while here). I can’t go for a walk or get pampered. Ironically, for someone who lives for Colin’s daily naps, I am not looking forward to my free time one bit. I mean, really, I’ve already read all the 50 Shades of Grey novels, and there’s only so many episodes of Mob Wives a girl can watch. Not to mention, I think I am really gonna miss this guy:
So. Have you read any good books lately?