I seriously can't keep track of the weeks any more. I found myself counting the weeks on a calendar and then I would lose count from month to month, then I realized you punks probably don't care how many weeks old Annie is any more because we are in months now, baby. MONTHS! And I always hate telling people her age in weeks (back when I actually knew the correct number) because it would force people to do mental math. The real brain trusts would do instant conversions to show off their skills:
worker at baby gap: So how old is your little.....(peeks curiously into stroller, only to find a heather gray onesie clad child in jeans, telltale pink socks covered up by a white blanket)...baby?
me: SHE's 22 weeks old.
worker at baby gap: oh, so about 5.5 months?
me: yes. Now why don't you put those superior math skills to work and find me a pair of jeans for this kid. Thaaaannnks.
And that, my friends, is why I am officially switching to the months. I don't want to tax anyone's brain (or my own) when they could spend that energy admiring our adorable child. Or bringing me jeans.
We have had an interesting streak in the house for the past 3 nights, and I hesitate to even speak of it lest it be jinxed, but Annie has required zero "visits" overnight. What that means is that Rick and I have had around 8 hours of undisturbed rest for THREE WHOLE NIGHTS! Sure, the visits to her room typically just involve replacement of a binkie and take about 17 seconds, but there are times when I figure I am up, so I might as well use the bathroom, grab some water (ensuring that I will have to use the bathroom the next time I am up), and then I am wide awake by the time I get back to bed. I didn't realize how this influenced my mood/mental capacity/alertness until one morning when my eyes snapped open at 6:15 am, after being closed since 9:45 the previous evening.
I felt rejuvinated, wide-eyed, and when I got to work I found multiple mistakes I had made over the past few weeks. It was awesome. I knew I was really close to being my old self again when I found myself not lollygagging in the shower. See, the shower is one of the few places to "relax" when Annie first arrived. No one bothers you in the shower, and it's not as self-indulgent as taking a nap. All that vomit isn't going to wash itself out of your hair, after all. But not the past few days; I am in and out in a time even one Johnny Loyd would find acceptable.
Side note for those not in our family: there always seemed to be a shortage of hot water in our house growing up. With three girls, I guess this is to be expected. In an effort to conserve water, my father installed these little knobs/torture devices on the shower heads that would stop the flow of water during times when he deemed actual water was not necessary during the showering process. These times were basically any time something was being lathered or shaved. And he paid attention to the sound of that water, for sure. If you stepped out of that bathroom and there hadn't been any water flow stoppage, prepare to face the wrath. Looking back, I am shocked he didn't find a way to control the flow of water himself. That'll give him something to think about during his retirement.
Where was I? Oh yes, being back to normal. Rick and I have even managed to have a little extra energy left at the end of the day to continue to work out, which is unprecented. Who doesn't seem to have enough energy at the end of the day is Annie, so she's not a huge fan of sitting around watching Mommy and Daddy gyrate to some circuit training DVD. As a result, we have taken the extreme measure of working out in the morning. Today was day 1. I was committed to the idea last night, but when the alarm went off this morning, I laid perfectly still to see if Rick would make the move out of bed. I was fully prepared to cave if he said he wanted to get an extra hour of this new precious sleep. Alas, he is stronger than I and I felt the covers roll back and off we went.
So yes, it took about 7 months (and 5 days) to start to feel normal again. I don't mean to scare my friend KK, who is about to give birth to her first child. It's a strange situation where you don't realize how abnormal you felt until you start feeling normal again. Kinda like being in the monkey house at the zoo. The smell kinda goes away when you are in there for a while, but you really notice it when you step back outside.
I am thankful to be out of the Monkey house.
Another note: This post is ALL over the place. I think my brain is in overdrive right now. Hopefully I will be able to organize thoughts here in the coming weeks. Apologies for the stream of consciousness post.
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