little black journal

I know, my last couple of posts have been syrupy sweet with new mama bliss, so allow me to present…the flip side.

Some days, this gig is rough. Yesterday was one of those days.  It was Juliette’s one-month birthday, and I had high hopes for the day – a photo shoot of our sweet little babe, a walk in the park, maybe a long nap…  Things got off to a rocky start with a bout of morning fussiness.  She wanted to be held constantly, which I don’t mind if it involves a cuddle session on the couch, but she wanted to be held and bounced.  Lord help me, the incessant bouncing…  We (meaning primarily Shane) have logged hours upon hours on that dang exercise ball, soothing the baby into a full-on, knocked-out, limp-limbed sleep, only to have her wake the second we stop to give our aching backs a rest.  We played this bounce/sleep/fuss game for a couple of hours yesterday morning before she finally conked out for a late morning nap.  Success!  She woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed around noon and I rushed her up to the nursery to snap a few pictures while she was alert and content, but she was less than photogenic, just staring at me blankly while I cooed and babbled.  My little song and dance eventually resulted in frustrated tears, for both of us.  I know, she’s a newborn, not a trick pony, but throw me a bone, girl!  I put away the camera and we spent a relatively quiet afternoon at home before deciding to get out and enjoy the sunshine.  I bundled her up and strapped her into her carseat for a ride to Jefferson Park.  She whined a little in the car, then cried a little as we walked the park’s loop, and began to wail as I took a detour to enjoy the fall foliage.  Back to the car it was, then.  The ride home was the longest five minutes ever – you’d think her car seat was lined with shards of broken glass, to hear her screaming.  Shane went for a quick run to decompress after I assured him I could handle her madness, but by the time he got home 30 minutes later, I was on the brink of a meltdown.  I was tired, and discouraged, and having a hard time finding the little girl I love inside our moody, red-faced monster.  Shane urged me to get out for awhile, so I grabbed my coat and flew out the door before he could utter the words “retail therapy”.  I found refuge in the mall, overwhelmed with my options now that I can shop outside of the maternity section.  I’ve still got some pregnancy pounds to shed, so finding the right fit has its challenges, but the break did me good.  By 8:00, I was ready to go home and make amends with my baby.  I headed out to the parking lot after making a quick stop at the Clinique counter to snag my bonus bag, but didn’t see the car outside of Macy’s.  Wait – had I parked outside of Macy’s?  I thought so…  I walked up and down the aisles of the lot three times before going back inside the store, to see if I could retrace my steps.  I completely drew a blank – I had absolutely no memory of walking into the mall.  I went back outside and walked the lot, again.  I started to panic.  I called Shane and really began to panic as I wondered aloud if our car had been stolen.  He was obviously helpless, at home and car-less with a sleeping baby, but he did his best to talk me off the ledge and then asked me to call a friend for a ride home while he looked into the protocol for reporting a stolen vehicle.  I called La Verne, doing my best to put on my calm and collected voice as I asked if she was busy, but she saw right through my guise and left her dinner guests immediately to come pick me up.  Is this who I’d become?  A lost, crazy lady wandering a mall parking lot in the dark, crying into her Jamba Juice?  As I was waiting for La Verne, I walked over to the adjacent Nordstrom parking lot, just to check, and…voila!  I have never been so happy to see our beat-up Civic.  I’ve also never been so embarrassed to call a friend and say, “Uh…nevermind.”  (Thanks, anyway, La V!)  I called Amanda on the way home, wanting to share my brush with insanity with a fellow mother, and as I told her that I felt like a total basket case, she kindly assured me, “You’re not crazy, Kel.  You’re just a sleep-deprived, hormonal new mom.”  True that.

Thankfully, the tides have turned today.  Juliette has flashed us dozens of smiles, as if she’s trying to make up for yesterday’s grump-fest, so we’re on speaking terms again.  I guess we both just needed a day to flush the crazy out.