Three years ago Paul was working at the hospital on weekends. I was at home with a new(ish) baby. By myself. I am admitting I dreaded the weekends because that meant all I ever did was baby stuff. At this age, mostly it consisted of getting her to nap, stop crying, or cooperate while I tried to get some chores done. She wasn't an AWFUL baby, but she wasn't one to just sit quietly and "goo and gaaaa" while I paid bills, cleaned house, or grocery shopped. So I barely got those things done with any real satisfaction.
As she got a little older, my weekends were marked with The Little Gym as a life savor of just one hour of an interactive change, taking lots of photos of a baby who crawled only because she HAD to if she wanted something badly enough, and then almost a year into it, my weekends saw back aches as she wouldn't let go of my fingers as she learned to walk. That, and pushing her around on her little car walker thingy because she got bored quickly with walking it herself, or even scooting in it. If mommy wasn't constantly engaged, baby was bored (I swear babies exist who just kind of are happy playing with their own feet). I was the only one on the planet who prayed for Mondays to come. I hated leaving the house with her on weekends because logistically it was just a pain. If I had real stuff to do I'd plow through with her if I HAD to. If it couldn't wait till a weekday lunch hour run.
Again, she wasn't an AWFUL baby, but combine her "engaged" personality with my drive to focus seriously on only one task at hand, and it meant I stayed at home as much as possible. Seriously, I can't grocery shop for real if I don't have 100% concentration on reading the labels. And the coupons. And the best deals. Much less trying on clothes or any other place people go on the weekends. And I hate shopping anyway. It's all a recipe for perceived disaster.
Last year I went to M's first dance recital by myself while Anna napped with Paul at home. Today Anna came with me and clapped at every stinking performance. She said not a word as each group danced. She loved it and I loved watching her. She got to see her friend on stage and then give her flowers at the end.
Paul's out of town this weekend and we were on our own. I realized I don't remember the last time it were just she and I alone on a weekend. This weekend, I cleaned all the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the kitchen, including details that I've been wanting to get to. I cleaned off my desk and paid bills and cleaned out the fridge. I cooked. Like with recipes and stuff I can't even pronounce in the name of eating healthy. This child busied herself with her toy room, puzzles, baby dolls, paint, music, and TV. She stayed in her PJ's till around noon each day and we were fine with that. I stopped to play with her here and there when she'd ask (but not every time she'd ask). We had conversations and she helped me cook. Yesterday we went to a birthday party (she got to skip nap for it) and today we went to the dance recital (napping right now!). Last night M came over for a little while and tonight we're going over there for dinner. I caught up on TV and even a podcast as I mopped the floors.
Crap. Look at us go!
We're finally feeling a grove I guess. My two co-workers have babies and I look at them talk, and though I miss two (already...she was so cute), I am glad that my kid is now old enough to swim in the pool with her arm floaties with our family friends and mean it (like on vacation last week). And she can make me plastic sandwiches and ask me what I want on them and tell me stuff I know she's only heard from school (The Word of God is the Word of God because it's the Word of God: Good job, sounds like you're learning
standard religion). She can get lost playing up in the room with M while I talk to grown ups (even though M will come to tell me when Anna's being mean). BTW I realized this weekend that my kid is starting the bully phase. Or somehting. I've heard about it from her teachers but this weekend with M is the first time I've had to deal with it. Crap, talk about making stuff up on the fly! (You two share. No hitting the panda bear. Stop being mean. No hitting each other with balloons. Who started it?)...
Anyway three years into it, wow what a difference. I guess my friends (like TJ) with older kids could have told me that it gets cooler (wait, I think she did tell me that...somebody did I think)...well it's definitely awesome, even though we still have tough moments. No three year old is perfect ;) But the progession is in my face. And it's definitely cooler.