There’s nothing better in the world than having a weekend with a baby (if sarcasm could drip, it would be pouring). For those moms who can cart their little ones off to their parents’ house (or have a sitter come to you), I am envious, and I salute you.
For the rest of us who are chained to our little ones, the weekend goes something like this:
1. Wake up before the sun has risen (maybe even a few times) despite the fact that you would sell your husband’s right nut to get a full night’s sleep.
2. Try to snuggle with husband, only to realize that dog and baby are in the way.
3. Feel around on the mattress to realize that baby has saturated her diaper and the sheets.
4. Get up, change baby, and put her in her crib. Miraculously, baby discovers she has lungs like a T-Rex and makes noises loud enough to wake the upstairs neighbor (who is an asshole, so I am secretly pleased).
5. Take turns going to the gym, which results in half of our day being gone before it’s even started.
6. Get ready to actually leave the house (yes, please!) only to have baby fall asleep. Leave baby sleeping to avoid the wrath. Wait two hours. Stare longingly out the window at all the fun things people are probably out there doing right now.
7. Finally get ready to go out for a nice dinner. If this is a Friday, this usually consists of the following:
A. Try to get Sophie into clothes. Struggle for 15 minutes.
B. Breast feed, feed solid food, which looks like a land mine of peas and blueberries exploded in child’s face.
C. Attempt to clean child’s mouth as she bucks wildly in her Bumbo; hear small fart, put child on the potty to see the most monstrous shit ever created by a human come out like soft serve; clean up child again; struggle to get child into warm clothes and a big jacket that causes her to sweat uncontrollably and cry once we get into the car.
D. Head to pick up Alex for date; try to soothe Sophie as she suddenly starts crying from the backseat; sing “Ride a little pony” until blue in the face; battle Chicago rush hour traffic; get to restaurant, only to see a line out the door and no available parking.
E. Pull over so I can get in the backseat and try and get Sophie’s polar bear suit off her to cease crying; discover that she is pouring sweat; decide to forget the whole thing and head home so we can get her upstairs and comfortable and just pick up food instead.
F. Once we get home, Sophie is happy as a clam. Alex goes out to pick up food, which I could care less about. The only thing I want is the peanut butter parfait. I have been dreaming of it all day – no, in fact, all week – it’s the only thing I want or need to make the start to this weekend official. I can’t have alcohol, so I will have aflatoxin, bad for me, rodent hairs and bug fragments in every jar best thing in the world peanut butter. I call to order our food. There are no more peanut butter parfaits. Fuck my life.
8. A few other lovely occurrences that may or may not happen on any given weekend: Slice off the tip of my thumb while cutting tomatoes; run to the store, park upstairs at Whole Foods, haul grocery bags, car seat, heavy child and three gallon water jugs only to discover the elevator is broken; deal with the absolute hell of four (yes, four!!!!!!) top teeth coming in simultaneously; try to veg out and watch a movie that should take 90 minutes; instead, it takes 4 hours from all the starting and stopping and playing and whining and parenting and talking and bribing that ensues.
In short? Our weekends have become lost. I’m not sure when we’ll get them back, but I miss those relaxing moments that rejuvenate you for the week ahead.
But when I look at that sweet face, when I feel her hands grip me tightly as she goes to sleep, when I see that smile that is literally heart-wrenching, I know it’s all worth it and that these will be the memories I will cling to later in life, when she’s sixteen and hating me and unappreciative of it all.
So, for now, for this moment, I have found solace in a little coffee shop in Lakeview, sitting across from my beautiful husband, as we sip our decaf Americanos and work and listen to Sophie’s coos and watch the snow fall outside.
I love these moments. They are my new weekends, and I welcome them with humor and the hope that one day, we will appreciate our weekends more than we ever thought possible. Until then, I live vicariously through other people and find the ability to love my life more than I ever dreamed.
10 organic blueberries
1/3 organic avocado
1/3 organic banana
purified water, to consistency
dash of spirulina (optional)
1. Pop all ingredients into blender and blend until smooth and creamy.
2. Secure a body-size bib over baby and watch as the smoothie goes everywhere but in baby’s mouth. Enjoy!