“I’m sorry,” I muttered into my pillow as he rubbed my back, “but I don’t have anything to talk about.”
He was very confused. “Why are we talking? I’m rubbing your back.”
I sighed. “I know. But this is the only part of the day that you and I get to be eachother, and I love having this time to talk with you. But I have nothing to say.”
The highlight of my day yesterday involved devouring my issue of Real Simple in between feedings, burpings, tummy time, and cleaning. THAT WAS IT. And although in a week, I’m sure I will miss days like this, when I got to see my son all day.. yesterday, I just felt utilitarian. I guess momma said there’d be days like this. “There’d be days like this,” momma said.
Today has been better in the way that there is change approaching. We have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow to address Tony’s sniffles and acne (Lord help my conscience if this is karma kicking my ass for years of making fun of ole Crater-Face), and then I go to tame the mane that is my hair. You know, it’s very weird, my hair. I read everywhere that hormones around the third trimester would kick into high gear and my hair would be “pregnancy hair”. Nothing happened. Then after I had the baby, it grew, like, eighteen inches. I practically sit on it now.
(Okay, not really. But it does dip into my collar, and that is such a foreign feeling to me.)
Tonight, The Biggest Loser comes on, which means you can find me in either a fetal position, sobbing, or a modified fetal position, doing crunches like a mad woman. I’m also cooking, which is awesome. It’s great weather for chicken ‘n dumplings. You’d think that I’d cook a healthy dinner to watch in front of a show about weight loss. Oh, you’d be so wrong.
Oh. And Diane Keaton totally rocks my socks off.