I'm pretty sure...

I am pretty sure I can eat an entire package of Double Stuf Oreos in one day. That's all 15 servings. All 30 cookies. I am also pretty sure I can do it without getting a stomach ache - not even a tiny one.

Not that I would ever eat all 30 cookies in a package of Double Stuf Oreos. That's just gross, right? I mean, I would never even have the things in my house, let alone eat them for breakfast and lunch and snacks in between.

If I were to eat an entire package of Double Stuf Oreos in one day it certainly would not  be because I had a really rough night. Nor would it be because my dryer broke today nor because we have an ant infestation. I'm obviously  not an emotional eater so those petty problems would never ever prompt me to eat and entire package of Double Stuf Oreos. Ever.

I'm pretty sure about that.

the monster inside of me

I have a monster inside of me. I think I know where it came from but I'm not at all certain how to get rid of it. It is mean and relentless and oh-so-exhausting.

The monster rears its ugly head always when I am tired and the baby is crying and the soon-to-be-three-year-old is whining and the house is chaos and the dishes are in the sink and it says things that are cruel but very easy to believe.

And when a mess is about to be made or the baby is awakened or the soon-to-be-three-year-old doesn't listen or the husband is late then the monster really rages.

The monster's fury amplifies when the soon-to-be-three-year-old pees on the carpet and the bathed, changed, and fed baby cries for two hours straight and sleep for me is still 10 hours away. It exclaims, "You cannot do this! You cannot do this! You cannot do this!"

The monster makes me not want to do anything and then throws daggers of guilt for not doing all the things I am supposed to be doing.

And more exhausting than dealing with the monster itself?  Pretending it isn't there at all.  Saying, "We're great! Thanks for asking!" or "Yep, we're doing fantastic!"  because, really, who wants to hear about the monster wreaking havoc inside of me?

the one with the first day

Still woke up before 5:00. Stayed in my pajamas all day, as did Zoey. No make-up. Ate lunch together. Took a three hour nap. Played the rest of the day.

I know not every day will be like this one, but it was a really good first day home.

the one with the last day

The jolting sound of my alarm pulls me from sleep and I quickly click it off before it wakes Zoey. 4:55. After all these years I am still not used to or happy about waking up before the sun. I roll my heavy body from my warm bed, even though it is begging me to stay a little longer. Into the bathroom with a quick look in the mirror and I can see the pregnancy weight has definitely moved to my face. No face wash or make-up can cover up fat. Oh, well. Wash. Moisturize. Teeth. Make-up. Hair. The door handle to my bathroom rattles and in pokes a sleepy little head. "Good morning!" she says, with eyes still closed. I put down my hair product, sit on the edge of the bathtub, and gather the drowsy bundle into my lap. This is getting nearly impossible with my baby bump but her smell and cuddles make it worth the effort. "Good morning to you, sweetie."

"Where are you going to today?" she asks. After 18 months, she still asks me each morning, and each morning I reply with a sigh, "Mommy has to go to work." This morning, though, I add, "But guess what? Today is my last day and then I get to stay home with you and play." She looks up at me and smiles. "Play at Jen's house?" Then I smile a smile of gratitude, thinking of how much she will miss being there. How lucky she is to have the Seguines in her life.

We make our way downstairs for milk and toast and a few more snuggles and then back upstairs to get dressed. As I finish getting ready, my stomach begins to feel queasy about this last day. I have so much to do and I don't know how it will all get accomplished.

Off to work, with quick kisses, hugs, and a "Bye, mommy, see you later!" followed quickly by a "Be safe, mommy!" at the door. As the cold slaps at me from every direction and I climb into the car, I can't help but think back to the first day I left Zoey to go back to work a year and a half ago. Lots of tears - all mine - and the weight of worry upon my shoulders. So much has changed and I can hardly believe this is it.

At work, it all gets done. Books collected. Final projects graded. Semester grades posted. Substitute prepped. Goodbyes all around. I know how I should be feeling, but the sadness slowly creeps in. I push it away with thoughts of eating lunch with Zoey and errands on weekdays and wearing my pajamas all day long. But it's still there in the back of my head.

Seven years is a long time to do pretty much the same thing at the same place with the same people. To leave that is difficult for me, but I know it is time for a new chapter - and I know this one will be even better.

blogspeak...

As of late, there has been a bit of blogspeak here and here (and everywhere) regarding the facade - or lack thereof - behind which some of us choose to present our blogthoughts. On my blog, I find myself somewhere between the two extremes. In real life, I find myself leaning far, far, far to the whining, woe is me, are you kidding me extreme. I know, I don't know why B-Man sticks around, either, except for that now we have a little lovie who he could never ditch.

So, in response to some of your thoughts, here is a Saturday morning no makeup, bedhead photo. Hold your applause, please.

Yikes is right!

And here are some of my worst woe is me nags.

I worked really hard to lose weight after Zoey was born (all 56 pounds). It took me over a year to reach my pre-pregnancy weight, but I never posted a picture because, of course, I am still not happy with the way by body looks. Bringing sexy back? I wasn't sexy before!

It is embarrassing to me that I cannot afford to stay home with my daughter because I am not willing to give up the lifestyle we live (which is, by the way, in no manner lavish, but is very comfortable). I always say I want to be home with her more than anything in the world, but am I willing to give up cable? No. My cell phone? Nope. Eating out? Not a chance. Oy.

I am a neat-freak in every aspect of the word, but sometimes we have dirty dishes out for a day - or two - because I literally do not have 2 minutes to put them in the dishwasher and/or am too exhausted. Yes, too exhausted to lift up a dish, run it under the water, and place it in the dishwasher.

I can and have eaten a whole box of donuts in the time of a day or two. I love donuts. I do not feel good about myself after this happens, but I feel plenty good while it is happening. I blame this bad habit on my parents - really, I do - but that is another post in and of itself.

When something tragic happens to someone else, my initial reaction is, "Thank you for not letting this happen to me." And then I feel badly for the other person. I am selfish that way and in many other ways, too. Not proud of this, but it is true.

So, there is some of my trash for your reading pleasure.

And I just had a realization. I don't usually post about this stuff because it doesn't make me feel good. At this moment, I don't feel uplifted like I do when I post cute things about Zoey or funny things about myself. So, as much as a facade as it might be, you won't see much of this. I am not hiding anything. Just trying to make it one day at a time, like each of you, as gracefully as possible.

keeping it real...

My beautiful sister-in-law has added several KIR moments to her blog, so I am following suit.

KIR: I am tired and sick and sick and tired of being sick. How is anyone supposed to take care of a little lovie when sick and oh-so-tired? Okay, so that sounds like pure complaining, but it is the truth.

Also, if I hadn't extended my maternity leave, I would be going back to work THIS Thursday. Just the thought is frightening, no?

daddy's late...

Yes, daddy's late and we have a salad to make and a Christmas party to attend and mommy has a headache and we've had a long day and...

...well, thank you, Boppy swing, binky and, of course, Dora.

13 weeks...

That's right!

I am 13 weeks...

...post-partum!

So, I will be honest and share that I gained way too much weight while I was pregnant. That whole "gain only 25 pounds" thing is a load, if you ask me. Anyhow, two weeks after Zoey was born about 30 pounds melted away without me doing a darn thing but eat and sweat. The next 30 pounds are holding on tenaciously but I'm kicking them out. 4 pounds down and 30 to go!

I'm bringing sexy back.

Oh, and Zoey is 3 months old today: