The Last Full Week

of maternity leave, that is. Yup, next Thursday at this time my ass will be back in an ergonomically questionable swivel chair attempting to sort through three months worth of unopened email and generally banging my head up against a wall that I can’t just take a nap after pumping like I would after breastfeeding the small one. Oh, and that I have to wear pants. I know, it sounds like a tolerable request, but just for practice, today I managed to put on a pair of trousers before noon for the first time in I don’t know how long. I’m going to miss my “work” attire of pajama pants, nursing tank and spit-up covered cardigan when I return to the world of blazers and button downs and other such things that involve either dry cleaners or irons.

I won’t even touch the whole “miss my baby” thing, as that would imply I was actually dealing with the transition. Last night the small one slept until 6:45 AM and part of me missed the 4 AM feeding, I’m such a freak for spending time with this kid. I am doomed.

Which is why next week is practice week. On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I’ll be getting up at 7, feeding and changing the small one and handing him over to my now stay at home husband. I’ll then shower, eat breakfast, kiss the boys goodbye and leave the house by 8:30 AM and go somewhere just to practice leaving the house on time (so I have a sense of how long my new working mom morning routine will take). Yes, this is very type A of me to practice something as simple as leaving my home, but this is how I deal, I make a plan. I’ve even planned a treat for myself, as I’m getting a massage on Tuesday (along with a hair cut and mani/pedi so I no longer look like someone who hasn’t left the house in a fiscal quarter).

And this last week at home? I plan to accomplish nothing. For the last full week in the foreseeable future.


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