A case of the Mondays

It took exactly four days for me to realize I hate working. I started last Monday, and Monday and Tuesday I actually had quite a bit of energy and managed to remain in a good moon, despite desperately missing my little man. Wednesday, my energy started to wane, and by Thursday I was done. Completely exhausted. I don't even remember Friday. I'm sure it will get better, I'll learn to function on less sleep, but I'm not sure I'll ever stop wishing I could be at home full-time. The other thing I hate? Pumping. But it only took about a day for that realization to sink in. Pumping sucks! I hate doing it. I bitched all week about it, like I'm the only mother who's ever gone to work and had to pump. I've been very blessed to have good friends (thank you Jennifer and Shelly), who are also working/nursing mothers, give me good advice about how to relax, get more milk and basically deal with the fact that pumping sucks. I also got a reality check--a friend's baby was born five weeks (? I think) prematurely and, after been given bottles since birth, never took to nursing, so his wife has been pumping for FIVE MONTHS. That is amazing to me. I need to borrow a little of her will and tenacity because she is truly, truly amazing for making such a personal sacrifice in order to provide the best nourishment possible for her baby. I'm not sure I would be so dedicated. It's only been a week and all I've done is complain. I do try to think of her, though, whenever I get discouraged and want to set my pump on fire. I also try to remind myself that it's only been a week. Hopefully it will get better.

The worst part about working is getting home and realizing how little time I have left in the day to spend with my Isaac Man. I tried to do as little as possible last week every day after work. I put off most chores except cooking dinner and doing laundry (when we finally start to run out of clean clothes) so I could spend as much time as possible with my Little Man. I know there are plenty of women out there--better, stronger women--who work, mother and manage to keep the house clean, and I hope someday to be one of them. One day at a time, I try to tell myself. I'm sure I'll figure out how to juggle it all, but, for now, I'll sacrifice the dishes for a few extra minutes with my Man.

Aah, the baby weight. Until now, I haven't worried too much about trying to lose the baby weight. Half of what I gained came off in the first two weeks, what with the removal of my almost 10-pound baby and the fluid and everything that came along with him. I've got 30 more to go, but I haven't been stressing about it because I'd rather focus my energy on loving my son. And, it's only been two months. I am, though, starting to get a little sick of wearing maternity jeans. It's getting to the point where the maternity pants are too big, but I still don't fit into anything I wore pre-pregnancy. And I bought a pair of jeans the other day that were about three sizes bigger than I'm used to wearing, and, although the size didn't bother me too much, the loose skin around my middle did. The maternity jeans camouflage it well, which may be one of the reasons it never bothered me before now. I think I'm ready to shed some of this weight now. I got a book Shelly recommended me, but I haven't started reading it yet. Maybe it'll be a miracle book and I'll be back to my old size in a matter of weeks. :)