TRIVIA: Did you know that Wang Chung means Yellow Bell in Chinese?
I went out at night for the first time last weekend. Chicago’s 3033 was headlining Coldtowne and I brought my one beer (go crazy!) with me for the late-night show. Ethan was asleep before I left, woke up once and was back in snoozeland before you could say, “yes, and.”
Okay, so I’m a little rusty. I’ve been out socially away from the baby before, but not at night. My first adventure was to see Magic Mike with a roomful of mostly female improvisors. The second, was to see Magic Mike with my sisters. That’s right, future baby reading this blog, I left you to see a lot of wang. Such proud maternal moments.
Sooooooo, I’m home now all the time. Not just in the, “Oh, I don’t go out much” (obv., except when wang is involved) kinda way, but in the, “I quit my job to be at home full-time with my son.” kinda way. Yeah. That totally happened. I didn’t think it would, honestly. I thought for sure I was heading back to work. Ethan had a daycare lined up and I was actively working on building up my white gold stash in the freezer. (“White Gold” is what lactation fanatics call breastmilk) The closer we got to the end of my leave, the more stressed out about it I got. Like, waaaaaaaaaaaaay stressed out. So stressed out I wasn’t enjoying what time I had left with the baby, stressed out. Now, Daniel was 100% behind me staying with the baby. He Without Raging Hormones was being the logical one. If I had the opportunity to, why wouldn’t I? Baby E was so small and wasn’t on any kind of routine. (Did I say, “was” like I’m not talking about two weeks ago?)
But the guilt, man. I felt so guilty about not going back to work. I’ve worked since I was 14, give or take some super short unemployed stints. That’s 22 years. I don’t know how to not work.
Actually, that’s a lie. This “not working” is flying by in a whirlwind of constant feedings, laundry, diaper changes and games of, “If I throw this on the floor, will you pick it up?” It’s not the imagined world of a peaceful, sleeping baby leaving me loads of time to write and bake lovely desserts and catch up on my correspondence. Nope. It’s crazy. I can’t imagine trying to do all of this and work 40+ hours at the same time. I marvel at all my friends who do it every day. You bitches are rock stars!
So this is where we are now. I’m going to try and make this blog more of an active voice and less of a neglected sad face. I’m always talking to you in my head. (By you, I mean the blog. Not you. It’s be weird if I was always talking to you in my head.) Here’s to trying to get those words out on the page.
And here’s a picture of Ethan wondering who shrunk his father.