A Day in the Life

With Nick working over 60 hours a week at his new job, I'm finding myself a bit overwhelmed by the day-to-day routine of working and caring for a baby and three animals, and trying to keep the house somewhat clean and presentable. Here's a snapshot of yesterday:

Come home from work.
Change into jeans and get stroller out.
Attach Ting Tong's recently recovered collar to her leash (the collar had been buried in my mom's couch for the last two months until it was found this weekend).
Take Sadie and Ting Tong for a walk around the neighborhood; Ting Tong hasn't been out in days.
Come home from walk, park stroller, put TT in downstairs entryway and close door.
Go back outside, gather things out of car that I couldn't carry up when I first got home from work: diaper genie inserts, a tray for Sadie's Bumbo, my breastmilk pump.
Put car seat and Sadie in downstairs entryway.
Go back outside, wheel stroller to door, collapse stroller and put in downstairs entryway.
Take Sadie out of car seat, gather up bags from car, walk up narrow, winding stairs, implore TT to follow. She doesn't.
Put stuff down all over kitchen, put Sadie in her Bumbo, wash off new Bumbo tray, prepare Sadie's cereal.
Realize I'm trembling from hunger and rip open box of crackers and start dipping them into peanut butter. The box of crackers falls on the floor but I'm too weak to pick them up.
Drink an Emergen-C.
Make Sadie's cereal.
Feed Sadie--her cute, cereal-strewn smile makes me happy.
Hear TT whimpering in the downstairs entryway because she doesn't think she make it up the stairs, even though she can.
Finish feeding Sadie and gather her up for a bath.
Hear TT barking at neighbors coming home.
Put Sadie in Bumbo on floor and go downstairs to get TT.
Push TT up first two steps then watch her bound easily up the rest.
Feed TT.
Give Sadie a bath.
Take Sadie upstairs to get her ready for bed.
Dry, dress, cuddle, read books to Sadie, nurse Sadie, and put her in her crib.
Hear Sadie cry as I walk back downstairs. She can't fall asleep without crying first.
Realize tomorrow is garbage day.
Put kitchen trash into bigger Portland City trash bag.
Empty cat litter. It hasn't been changed in days, and we have two cats.
Turn on Wet/Dry Vac to vacuum up scattered kitty litter and get sprayed with water sucked up a few days earlier during kitchen flood (requires another entry to explain)
Wipe off walls now sprayed with dirty flood water.
Tie up garbage bag and bring downstairs. Don't bother with recycling.
Walk outside and inhale the sweet, clean Maine air. The water in the bay is still and the sky is darkening.
Walk back inside, up the stairs into kitchen, and clean out pot used to heat up can of soup the night before.
Heat up another can of soup for dinner.
Play fetch with TT while eating dinner and reading story in "American Baby" magazine about how to "get it all done."
Notice that Sadie has stopped crying.
Go to bathroom and see that TT has peed on the bath mat. Rinse off bath mat.
Put dishes in dishwasher and forget to run it.
Sit down in big, red chair, intending to do freelance editing work.
Stare at big pile of unfolded laundry on the couch, and realize I'm too tired to either edit or fold laundry.
Go upstairs to bed. It's 8:30.
Wake up 1am, 3am, 4:30am. Sadie is gassy and fussy.
Wake up Nick and have him try to comfort Sadie when nursing doesn't work.
Have Nick put Sadie in her swing.
Talk to Nick about his day, since I never see him anymore during daylight hours.
Get out of bed at 6:30 and reheat yesterday's coffee in the microwave.
Start writing this post.
Sadie wakes up.
Keep writing while she fusses.
Go get Sadie out of swing.

Welcome to the Johnsons

There is a bar on the Lower East Side called Welcome to the Johnsons. From what I can remember, it's got faux-wood paneling on the walls, 70s-era couches, and maybe even a Ms. Pac-Man game. It is, of course, a totally ironic homage to the childhood homes of many 30- and 40-something hipsters, with its quintessential middle-America orange and brown 1970s decor, notable for its utter blandness. Hipsters go there to remind themselves of how far they've come since leaving the mid-West and moving to Manhattan. That they do this by hanging out in a bar that looks and feels exactly like the sort of space they killed time in back when they were still in Minnesota and dreaming of being anywhere but there is not an irony lost on anyone; in fact, it is the whole point of going to Welcome to the Johnson. I enjoyed a beer or two there in my day.

So I thought it was pretty darn funny when we got this in the mail today:

[photo to come]

A completely un-ironic welcome to the neighborhood: an envelope emblazoned with "Welcome Johnsons!", stuffed with coupons to places we'll probably never go, it's a reminder of how far we've come since leaving New York City and moving to Maine.

Another sign that you're moving in a different orbit than your younger self? Going to see your friend's babysitter's band. Happened Saturday afternoon, right here in Portland, ME.

Or getting called ma'am in the supermarket checkout line.

And not getting carded anymore. Ever.

Prolonged Absence

Wow. I haven't written in two months?? Really? 

Okay, since I tend to put off blogging  when I don't think I have the energy to write anything substantial, from now on I'm just going to log on and blog whatever is on my mind, without worrying about whether it makes a full blog post or not. How's that for a deal?

Today's thought:

On being a mom who works and takes her child to daycare:

I miss riding my bike through town and stopping at the local coffee shop for a Jamaican Me Crazy to go. It's harder being green when you're a working parent, I think. The other day, I drove my child to Falmouth, and because I was in such a rush and hungry from no breakfast yet not able to think clearly because I hadn't had any coffee, I went to the Dunkin' Donuts drive-through at 9am and got a coffee and some kind of egg white omelet on a panini. In my station wagon. Then  I drove on the highway to get to work. And parked in a big parking lot and took the shuttle bus up to my office. Very un-bohemian and un-environmentally friendly. And a little soul-crushing.

So the other day, I drove Sadie to daycare, then came home, parked the car, and got on my bike and rode to work! It takes about the same amount of time as driving. Then I rode my bike back home, and would have gotten in the car to pick up Sadie, but it just so happens that my sister-in-law offered to drop off Sadie on her way to her parents' house in South Portland (just one of the benefits of having your sis-in-law be the assistant director at your kids' daycare). So I was sort of semi-environmental and hip that day. But really, am I going to do that when it gets colder? When it's raining? No, it'll be highway driving while dunking donuts. 

Speaking of daycare, Sadie loves it! She is like, the hit of the infant room! This little kid Anthony did a dance for her while she sat in her Bumpo! Her teacher Cate says that Sadie just smiles and laughs all day. She even painted on Monday! My heart almost melted when I saw her "painting." I finally understood why mothers have put their kids' artwork up on their refrigerator doors. Sadie's painting was brilliant!