Wow, when I finally have the time to update I can’t think of a damn thing to say. My life is not anecdotal, which makes me truly terrible at this craft. My life is more like this:
I get up and take a shower. By the time I get out, Olivia is crying in her crib, which is taxing to the brain at 5:50 a.m. I rescue her, cuddle her, put her into her exersaucer, and try to keep her entertained while I get ready. By 6:45 I’m on the road, trying to ignore the fact that I’m going 10 mph and listening to my iPod or the Mike Barnicle morning show on 96.9. At work, I work. I’ve been doing the same job for 3 years and know what I’m doing. Sometimes being around my coworkers can be exhausting. The drive home is longer than the drive there, since I never get to leave on time and every five extra minutes I spend in the office translates to an extra ten minutes on the road. Jay Severin complains about Hillary Clinton and “crimaliens” as I drive. I go to my parents’ house to get Olivia and think how I can’t believe I’m back in this town every day, back at this house. Sometimes I pick up a coconut iced coffee on my way so I won’t be tempted to snack when I get home, since going to the gym is more or less out of the question. I carry Olivia plus the baby bag, my purse, and sometimes my laptop bag up the stairs and dump everything on the dining room table. Then I am torn between playing with Olivia and taking care of things: making formula, taking something out for dinner, getting undressed, repacking Olivia’s bag for tomorrow. I never decompress, just move on to a different mental checklist. Joe gets home at 6:45 feeling the same way and complains about his day. Olivia is ready to have her last bottle by 7:15 and goes to bed by 7:45. It’s late to make dinner. We never know what to have. TV usually sucks. I go to bed and read, and I’m asleep by 10:30.
But that’s life, right? I suppose I need a hobby.
I get up and take a shower. By the time I get out, Olivia is crying in her crib, which is taxing to the brain at 5:50 a.m. I rescue her, cuddle her, put her into her exersaucer, and try to keep her entertained while I get ready. By 6:45 I’m on the road, trying to ignore the fact that I’m going 10 mph and listening to my iPod or the Mike Barnicle morning show on 96.9. At work, I work. I’ve been doing the same job for 3 years and know what I’m doing. Sometimes being around my coworkers can be exhausting. The drive home is longer than the drive there, since I never get to leave on time and every five extra minutes I spend in the office translates to an extra ten minutes on the road. Jay Severin complains about Hillary Clinton and “crimaliens” as I drive. I go to my parents’ house to get Olivia and think how I can’t believe I’m back in this town every day, back at this house. Sometimes I pick up a coconut iced coffee on my way so I won’t be tempted to snack when I get home, since going to the gym is more or less out of the question. I carry Olivia plus the baby bag, my purse, and sometimes my laptop bag up the stairs and dump everything on the dining room table. Then I am torn between playing with Olivia and taking care of things: making formula, taking something out for dinner, getting undressed, repacking Olivia’s bag for tomorrow. I never decompress, just move on to a different mental checklist. Joe gets home at 6:45 feeling the same way and complains about his day. Olivia is ready to have her last bottle by 7:15 and goes to bed by 7:45. It’s late to make dinner. We never know what to have. TV usually sucks. I go to bed and read, and I’m asleep by 10:30.
But that’s life, right? I suppose I need a hobby.
