Sometimes I wish I could go back in time and shake my pre-mommy self into working more. In retrospect, I had so much time back then. Being a work-at-home mom sometimes feels like a comedy of errors:
My day starts at 7AM when the baby wakes but let me fast-forward to around 10AM when I decide to work. Alright, the baby is playing quietly in her swing? Great! Let me get some work done. I get everything ready and I start working: I’m reading over some documents, I glance over at the baby, glance back to the documents.
Look at me, I’m such a modern mom!
But quiet time only lasts 10 minutes. Sigh. I unbuckle baby out of the swing and nurse her for 15 minutes until she falls asleep. I place her gently in her crib and sit down in front of my laptop. Now hmmm, why doesn’t anticipatory repudiation apply to unilateral contracts? Ohh wait I suppose that if the deal is such that… Wahhhh!
I tip toe to the bedroom and peep inside at the edge of the door. The baby catches my eye and flails her arms as if to say “Hurry!” I pick baby up. Really, just a 30 minute nap? She lays her head softly onto my shoulder, head of curls a mess. Yes, I can rock you for a little while until you wake up fully.
Once baby is awake she sits in her Bumbo, a baby-sized seat made of some kind of rubbery foam. There she watches The Chica Show, about a puppet chicken that communicates in squeaks and works in a magical costume shop.
While baby is entertained I shall make myself a salad. Feeling ambitious, I even make my own salad dressing whipping up dijon, honey, and balsamic vinegar. I chop up a small avocado. I slice two dates and crumble some goat cheese. Ah, a beautiful and nutritious meal.
Look at me eating things I bought at the Farmer’s Market, I’m such a natural mom!
Let me just sit down to—wwwahhh!—Well, ok baby, I can hold you on my lap while I eat my salad. I eat quickly. It’s nursing time again. I sit in repose cradling the baby as the sun floods in. I pull out my phone. I check Instagram. I scroll through beautiful lives of my single, childless friends. Look down to pajama pants and bare feet.
How about a book? I read her favorite, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do You See? I make distinct voices for each animal, because I care about showmanship. I pretend to be Maggie Smith when I do the duck voice.
Now baby is calm, but still far from sleep. I switch the television to Pandora and Fiona Apple’s Across the Universe plays. I sway, spin, and loop around the room with baby in my arms. Baby squeals with laughter when I lift her into the air as I sing, “Nothing’s gonna change my worlddd…” She smiles at me with big brown eyes and raises her own baby arms.
After a few songs, I put baby down on her baby mat. Finally, a bit more quiet time. What time is it? ONLY 11:30? Oh god, when is my husband getting home? Focus. Read, write. Solid 30 minutes. Catch baby rubbing eyes. Better pick her up before she gets overtired.
Look at me, I’m such an intuitive mom!
Place sleeping baby on bed. Sneak out to laptop. A glorious hour session of work while baby naps. Text from John: “Be home late today. (encouraging emojis)” Great. Baby wakes up. But! I receive a windfall: my sister visits and agrees to watch the baby. I quickly change into actual clothes and actual shoes. No time to do my hair I hope people think I intended to look messy. I pack my blush pink leather bag and head to a nearby cafe.
I feel incredibly indulgent. I order an iced latte. Dig through my bag for wallet and find a stray baby sock. Pay cash. Sit at a long table facing a big window. Look at me working at a cafe with an iced drink and no baby, I feel like a less glamourous, more sleepy Nicolette Mason. I could order a macaron and totally Instagram it. But I don’t. At the cafe I get three whole hours of work before heading back to find a sleeping baby. She wakes as I enter the room. It’s nice to get a break but I still miss her when I’m away.
Look at me being a mom.
What a long winded way to tell you I wore these pink chinos from ASOS curve that make me happy, random striped top, F21 necklace, ASOS sunglasses, and Cole Haan spectator pumps for my afternoon outside.
