Thinking Through Thursday

I'm not quite sure how to be a mom and a worker bee.  In the land of 8-5 those two things seem mutually exclusive.  Before I had C-rad, I knew exactly how to take care of my business at work; an unstoppable force of customer service.  Then, I went on maternity leave and I didn't know what to do with this new being, this baby who was completely dependent on me.  Since going back to work, I've been stuck between those worlds, or they've decided to switch positions on me.

At work I feel disconnected, knowing what I have to do but just not being able to put myself or my thoughts 100% into it.  It's like getting a new pair of glasses or putting on a pair if you've never had to wear them before - I feel a little dizzy, off-balance, and the world just doesn't look right.  Home is now where I feel more competent, but my hours here feel more like work hours, like I only get to be here for finite period of time and my office is really where I live.  It's a confusing and damp feeling, one that's been trying to worm it's way into my consciousness for the past couple of weeks.  I can't think of any immediate way to help alleviate it, so I'm going to just try to feel it for what it is and then battle out of it.  It's just a double-whammy because I've been comfort eating through it, and we all know that at this time of year there are plenty of baddy goodies to gobble up and feel bad about later.

It also doesn't help that the magic elixir that once coursed through my veins with my pregnancy seems to be wearing off.  I'm starting to break out when I hadn't had a zit in almost a year, the hair that I once flaunted is starting to fall out (not in startling amounts, but more than before), and I'm reminded of my soft, worn-pillow-like stomach whenever I see an ad or commercial for holiday fashion.  I wear the same seven pieces of clothing to work each week.  The state that my hair is in when I wake up is how it is all day long until it starts to wilt like an overdone souffle.  I wear socks and stockings that have holes in them.  I'm not asking for a glamorous life, which is a good thing because that ain't what I got.

These guys are what makes it all bearable:

It's totally hokey and lovey-dovey, but it's true.  I love the way both of them smell - one with a mature musk (he doesn't smell like a farm animal, if that's what you're thinking) and the other with that incomparable baby scent.  I love going places with them - one is a great driver and travelling companion and the other provides the in-car entertainment and car cabin cuteness.  They both have irresistibly kissable faces and while I enjoy picking one of them up, I like that the other can pick me up.  We all have a wonderfully symbiotic relationship and it's one of the few reliable, consistent things in the world.  I don't know where I'd be without family.