Lots of highs.
Lots of lows.
Around these parts, postpartum life involves rejoicing over the mighty victories of a made bed, my cup of coffee inhaled by me and me alone, a 4 minute shower, mom dressed (in her nicer sweats) and minimal crying (adult, toddler and infant). Bonus points are awarded for makeup applications (priorities), toddler and baby dressed in new (for the day) clothing, laundry done, and any ventures outside the house (never have I ever and it's not looking promising for the next yearish).
Yesterday morning was a big fat loooooooong find-me-a-shovel-so-I-can-dig-a-hole-so-we-can-go-lower low. The bed most certainly was not made, Julia drank and spilled my coffee, the shower was only 45 seconds long, mom rocked her ugliest stained sweats and everyone cried...a lot. And bonus points shmonus points. None here.
To adequately salt my failure wounds, Simon's exit time from work kept getting pushed back and I was very much looking forward to the mandatory work dinner he had to attend (spouses not included) that night. Julia kept trying to climb into her doll stroller and simply couldn't accept the simple physics of the fact that her large bottom would not be fitting in the small stroller. She also pitched a fit when she couldn't take my nail polish off ("Little Brown Dress"...Simon calls it "Black Coffee" because he claims it is actually black) my nails to play with...like she enjoys doing with my glasses, earrings and eyebrow hair. Julia soaked through three pairs of pants and learned how to flush the toilet-unrelated facts but both equally annoying. I've been hit by the ugliest fatigue train that even my toughest pregnant days never saw which makes everything a little bit worse than it seems. Sebastian has decided that he requires that he be spooning his bare food source while sleeping which is a horrible development. We'll have to nip that habit immediately. Horrible pun-please forgive me.
And don't think that I didn't let Simon know about each and e-v-e-r-y little tyrant nightmare that went down. Martyrdom could wait ... I wanted empathy, sympathy and solidarity right then and there.
This is where I should say that things turned around yadda yadda and the day was saved. Of course Simon eventually came home and the day was eventually fine after I got to nap (with Sebastian at his high maintenance sleeping post) and Simon took Julia on a long walk and on a nice errand run-but let's not dwell on the positive. All horrible, bad, awful for me!
Today might be better...or it might be worse (pretty please no no no no no no no no) but there are nice moments to get me through. I won't litter the post with fragrant cheese but I will say that Julia's seeming indifference to Sebastian has taken a turn for the tolerance meets curious stares. Sebastian's pretend smiles are more frequent and when he is awake, alert and not crying he is kind of cute. Simon is the most patient man on the planet and is probably vastly outnumbering the times I change a diaper 3:1 these days. He doesn't cringe when he comes home from work and I'm still wearing the same sweater, nursing tank (hate) and maternity yogas I was wearing yesterday, the day before yesterday and the day before the day before yesterday. . .I know I would.
Postpartum living is rough.
(I'm tempted to type a little rhyme like...
tomorrow is a brand new day
you'll live to see another day
something equally awful
but I won't