A day in the life...

So yeah. Blogging has taken a back seat- and I'm not happy about it. Here's a teeny glimpse of an average day in the life...

I just sit here sometimes and think: How did this happen? How am I sitting here at the dinner table still in my pajamas? It's not by choice. It's not for fun. It's by pure oblivion. When I retrace the day, it seems fair: I was awoken around 3am by a screaming baby girl, who now at a quarter to 6 needs to eat. Again. Because K has to go to work in a few hours, I leave the room -screaming baby in hand- so he can at least get a few good hours rest. When I do finally get her to sleep and ring out all of her cloth diapers, it's all I can do to crash on the couch and not wake up again until the next feeding time. By then K has left for work and it's half way to lunch. So I have breakfast and start a load of laundry- because it's almost certain that she blew out 2 of her diaper covers overnight, and if I don't get them washed she'll be running around in a duct taped burp cloth in no time. I do manage to squeeze in a little ironing and dishwashing here and there... but why get dressed for that? K always comes home for lunch, so that's usually the time when I bathe. It's the decision-making part of the day for me- Do I get dressed? Do I attempt to blow dry my hair? A quick laugh and reality check "no time for that" and "what for?" passes through my mind and I put something comfortable back on. By 'comfortable' I mean the same black pajama pants I stole from Mae in college and have worn every day since my 3rd trimester. It's feedings and diaper changes, spit up and screaming, playing and rocking until K gets home from work. Why would I want to do all of that in uncomfortable jeans and ruin a cute top with milk stains? From spit up and leakage. Ugh. Don't get me started. By the time he gets home it's dinner time and I honestly haven't noticed that I look ridiculous. This is probably because I haven't looked in a mirror all day. No, really. I can't tell you when the last time I looked in the mirror was. Sure, I catch a glimpse here and there... but I never really look. When I do take a look I get depressed and overwhelmed with the work I have ahead of me. So I just choose not to look I guess. (Denial?) How am I going to tell K that the cute girl he married may never return? Yike.

So, props to all of you moms who actually get dressed and put more than moisturizer on your face for the day. I now understand how much of an effort it takes, and I salute you.

All that being said, I wouldn't trade my days for anything. Not one thing. I love getting spit up on and I really don't mind the lack of sleep. It means more time with my little lady and it reminds me how incredibly blessed we are to have a healthy baby girl and that I am able to stay at home with her. I love it and I am so very thankful for her life.

I had planned on writing about so much tonight... but... this little insight took a lot longer than I thought it would, and little hoot is sleeping now- which means I need to sleep. She'll be hungry before I know it! I can't believe she's one month old today.

From this:
To this:

Stop growing Chamblee!!! I can't take it!!!

"You're my blue sky, you're my sunny day..."

Until Next Time,

The Guff