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postcards from postpartum

Yesterday was one of those freak-out days. Part of it was mom being gone, part of it was finally reaching that personal saturation point—that absolute weariness of being available body and soul to this infant. She’s also just portable enough and agreeable enough for me to try to get some things done, but not portable and agreeable enough for me to get everything done. Although let’s face it, “everything” is an illusion anyway. So I get frustrated because I’m running to stand still. I think the crystallizing moment came when I passed through the kitchen last evening and found a mug full of cold murky liquid—an abandoned cup I’d thrown a teabag in hours before and subsequently forgotten. On some days the sight of that forlorn beverage would make me laugh, but instead, that cold tea was a symbol of my perceived incompetence, my inability to get basic things done. Not even great things. Just basic things, like clean dishes. A well thought-out blog. Tea.

Today I feel better. I’ve decided that just for today, I’m not going to care. I’m going to laugh at the chaos. What do I want my kids to remember about me? That I had a pristine house? Or that I laughed easily and was willing to leave the dishes undone to play Elefun?

Today, I’m not going to think about going back to work in a couple of months and how much more chaos there will be. Today, I’m going to enjoy life, whether I get anything done or not. And depending on how today goes, I may try it again tomorrow.

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I got a pedicure the other day while Mamala watched Miss M. I think the pedicure is my favorite indulgence—it feels good at the time, and I have cute toes for a long time afterwards to savor the experience. The only downside to the pedicure is having to put up with the disdainful tut-tutting over the state of my heels. My heels are horribly dry, I’ll admit it. I usually have to endure a short lecture and sales pitch about how I need to do X Y and Z to my feet, although this time I wanted to say, “I already told you I’ve just had a baby, right? And I have a three-year-old? Heel care is not high on my list at the moment. If I have an extra moment in the day I should spend it flossing, not slathering cream on a part of my body that nobody cares about but you. And perhaps me, and maybe R. Maybe.

Oh, who am I kidding. I bought some yummy cucumber cream because it smelled really good. I also bought some dental floss yesterday while grocery shopping, but you can guess which one I’ve used more since then.

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A conversation on the way home from preschool, complete with my internal monologue:
Me: Did you have music today at preschool?
C: No, chapel.
Me: What happened in chapel today?
C: There were lions there.
Me: What did the lions do?
I feel like we’re doing the catechism.
C: The lions were with the people. An angel came and closed the lions’ mouths, so they didn’t get bitten.
Hey, that’s a pretty good summation of the story.
Me: Do you remember the name of the person who was with the lions?
C: [pause] …Daniel.
Bingo!
Me: What else happened?
C: There was a tornado that bit the people.
Hmm, went one too far there.

At this point the pastor in me wonders whether I should make the God connection, while the English major in me wants simply to let the story stand. The pastor, and curiosity, win out.

Me: C, who sent the angel to help Daniel?
C: Jesus.
Not sure what my Jewish friends would say about that, but we’ll get into that another day.


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