Work + Baby + Dogs + Mom =

Holy shit. That’s the answer to the equation, in case you were stumped. Holy shit I’m a busy bitch!!!

Now..I’m going to complain here, but I want it made crystal clear that I am VERY grateful for everything that I have. Srsly. And I know I have it very easy, and people do this all the time.

Having said that, HOLY SHIT.

Okay so here is what’s been happening. Monday, John leaves for work at the asscrack of dawn. Xavier wakes me up at the asscrack of dawn, or shortly thereafter. Feed him, get him dressed and play for a bit. He’s always super happy in the mornings so I’m glad I get to hang with him. He goes to sleep after about an hour, for about an hour. During that hour, I get his things ready for his day at Grandma’s.

My mom has somewhat limited dexterity in her hands. Snaps give her trouble. Little buttons? Forget it. So..I make sure she has the velcro cloth diapers, not the snaps. Xavier has a few pairs of feetie pajamas that zip up, and that’s what he wears all day when he’s with her. I disapprove of all day pajama wearing as a general rule, but they don’t go anywhere, and I try to make things as easy as possible for her.

I have to also prepare his bottles. Remember the dexterity problems? Yeah..putting together a Dr Brown with all those pieces? Come on! (Although we switched to Tommee Tippee last week anyway.) She kinda seems to struggle remembering if he last ate at 2:30 or 3:20..or is it he needs to eat at 2:30? Which, hell, that crap even trips me up sometimes. So, I label the bottles with the times on them for her. I use these removable labels:

 And they work pretty damned well.  By 9, Xavier is back up and ready to eat, be changed and play some more. 10:30 he’s back asleep. Now I can shower, get ready for work and make sure I have all of MY crap. I have to take my purse,  my lunch, my beast of a breast pump, AND bottles to store breast milk in. This is me, leaving for work.  

So..John comes home from work around 6ish, feeds the dogs, takes a shower, and then he takes over for a little while. I get home at 8, take a shower, eat whatever he puts in front of me, wash some bottles, freeze breastmilk I pumped, put Xavier’s PJ’s & bedtime diaper on, brush my teeth and go to bed.

That’s just Monday! I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. John works looooong days, so I have Xavier all to myself on these days. These are the days I run errands for my mom, do the shopping, catch up on stuff, and put together Xavier’s bags for Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and it seems like every week SOMEONE is going to the doctor. This week, it was Squirt. He’s been scratching his head and face a LOT since the power outage. I tried treating him with Benadryl, figuring maybe it was an allergic reaction to the bread we gave him his Prozac with when I ruined the cheese. (Cheese must be sealed before being placed in a cooler of ice. Sorry.)  But it just wasn’t getting any better so yesterday, he went to the vet. After a skin scrape, infection and mites were ruled out. Best she can figure, he either got into something that irritated him, OR it was the stress of the power being out. He’s such a sensitive bitch.

Soooo he’s on Xanax too now. Yes, really. My dog is medicated up like a soccer mom.

 YES!

Thursday looks a lot like Monday, except I get home at 10 instead of 8. Friday, I go in earlier and have to leave the house by 11:45. John gets home by 6pm and takes over, I get home at 10.

Now..I get HOME at 10..so I’m probably not in bed until midnight or one.

Saturdays are the shitshow coup de grace. John and I decided a few things about Saturdays. 1. He rides to work with me. This saves gas money, and gives us a little time to talk to each other. His job is about 20 minutes past my job. 2. Since Saturdays are such long days and we don’t want my mom to get overwhelmed, Xavier goes to a babysitter that day.

Saturdays, I have to be at work by 8 am.

Saturdays suck.

We get up at 5. I feed the baby, he feeds the dogs. Shower, get shit together. I prepped as much as I could on Wednesday, but just getting everything and everyone out the door..holy shit. The babysitter doesn’t have baby shit, because she doesn’t have a baby so that would be weird. So I have to take EVERYTHING Xavier owns because he will surely need it. You can’t have a baby without an epic fuckton of baby shit. Everyone knows that. Pssh.

Drop John off at work. Circle back, babysitter lives close to my job. Unload his crap, feed him one more time. GO TO WORK FOR TEN HOURS. I have to pay for the short shifts I have on Monday & Thursday by working longer hours on Saturday and Sunday. This makes good financial sense, it’s all great on paper, and for paper. So..ten hours later, I pick up my baby. Then I go pick up John. An hour later, we’re home. Feed the dogs, ourselves. Shower. Wash bottles, diapers, clothes, baby.

Sunday is mercifully easy by comparison. John stays home with Xavier, so all I have to prep is bottles. And, yanno..drive 45 minutes each way to work a 10 hour shift. NBD.

So, if you’re wondering why I haven’t called, or returned your email..it’s because I hate you. Just kidding.  It’s because of all this.

One fun highlight of my week, then I gotta feed the kid and get this show on the road.

Something you should know about my husband: He hates pants. When most people come in the door after work, they remove their shoes. Or, if you’re me, your bra. But he drops trou. He’ll do housework, in his underwear. With slippers, of course, because he’s convinced you die when you don’t have slippers.

Since my mom moved in in April, I’ve been trying to discourage this behavior. I’ve said probably one thousand times “One of these days, you’re not going to hear her coming and she’s going to see you in your undies. And I will laugh and do the I told you so dance when it happens.” And he’s all “Nah I can always hear her coming, she’s not exactly a ninja!” To which I reply “One of these days! I will laugh, and dance!”

Well, that day, my friends was Saturday. And I witnessed it. And I laughed, and danced. EPIC.

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