Myth: The joy of Friday doesn’t apply to stay-at-home moms. So, so false.
With the anticipation of a weekend comes the anticipation of:
–Having an adult to talk to in your normal tone of voice (as opposed to your much-higher-than-necessary baby register). This weekend, Brent’s parents are visiting, so I’ll even have 3 ADULTS to talk to.
–The possibility of doing something during the day SANS KID. Going to the grocery store, getting the mail, weeding the yard, using the bathroom. I’ll take anything.
–Not having to respond immediately to your child’s every need. (When both parents are home, you can try crossing your fingers and ignoring it for awhile to see if the other one will react first.)
–Low pressure to get anything productive done. Weekends are family time. They’re holy.
I had a really interesting topic I was going to unload on you today, but as a former desk job employee, I still respect the unspoken societal agreement that we all avoid doing anything important on Fridays.
It’s also been awhile since we had a proper Friday phone date.
If we were having a phone date, I’d tell you about how…
…God loves to remind me that I can’t control everything. I should have known that the week I planned this lofty sleep goal would be the week I actually went to bed later than ever. Last night, I was (finally) right on track to get to bed early, but was sabotaged by the fact that Mason kept waking up crying every hour, out of the clear blue. Not sick, not hot/cold, not hungry, not thirsty, just…sad? Who knows.
Anyway, God, point taken.
…My eating habits have been a mess lately. Not in the scarfing-tons-of-junk-all-day way, but in the forgetting to eat breakfast, eating lunch way too late, snacking too much and then not having an appetite for dinner, and generally not paying enough attention to how I’m fueling myself way.
It’s annoying, because I know better, and also because it’s showing up on the scale. (I can only tell myself those couple extra pounds are water weight for so long, ya know?) Whenever I don’t eat enough food or don’t eat regularly enough, my body responds by immediately hitting the red alert button and shutting down all energy-burning processes. Result: weight gain.
Duh, me…you know this!
…Mason has dog-like senses when it comes to detecting his proximity to parks. It’s seriously unnerving. Sometimes I don’t feel like stopping at any of the 57 parks along our walk route (or I at least try to put it off until the end), so I plan these elaborate detours and hope he won’t notice.
But he always knows.
This morning, the park was honestly not even in sight yet when I attempted a sneaky right turn to go around it, and I got The Panic Face:
He can also sense when I’m about to attempt to give him medicine. The second my hand grazes a bottle of Benadryl, his lips lock up, and there’s no prying those puppies open. (He’s even figured out how to cry in protest with his mouth still closed.)
…My one-month yoga studio trial is almost up and I’m already devastated about it. The barre and yoga fit classes seriously changed my whole outlook on fitness. I guess that’s what people mean when they say you have to find something you truly love? Again: duh, me.
But why does the thing I love have to also be the most expensive thing??
Story of my life.
…I’ve been fuming a little bit about something I saw on Instagram this morning. A friend posted a picture of herself in a bikini, looking amazingly toned and gorgeous at 30 WEEKS preggo, and someone had to comment, “You’re so tiny. B*tch!” followed by some jk/lol cover-ups.
I’m just sick of that junk. I understand being jealous, sure, but does that mean you get permission to make the other person feel bad about how she looks? Just tell her she looks great and go on your merry way. (And you’re not fooling anyone with the “just kidding!” business.)
…I’m considering getting a job. Scratch that: I’m actively pursuing jobs. I plan on writing a whole post eventually about why I’ve decided to retire from the stay-at-home-momhood (at least for now), but I can’t deny that this is one of the reasons: the idea of entertaining a busy toddler with a mega-short attention span through an entire Midwest winter is…well, what’s the word for scary x 1000?
Let’s just say I remember these long days all too well…
Your turn: what’s something you’d tell me on our phone date?
Have a great weekend, friends!