Week one of being a working mother completed. I must say – it is exhausting. I wake up at 6am now. I shower, feed the baby, bathe and clothe him, groom and dress myself, eat breakfast, then drop him off at daycare. I go to work where I am frantically trying to learn my new job. I drive back, pick up Brandon if Steve can’t, go home, eat dinner. By this time, it’s 6:30 or 7:00pm. This is when I would normally work out. But I am so exhausted, I don’t. This is the only time I have with my baby while he’s awake. So I tickle him, giggle at him, feed him, then put him to bed. I read a few pages, but I drift off to sleep before I can even finish a chapter.
People I work with have asked if it’s hard being a working mother. “It’s exhausting,” I reply. And inevitably, working mothers tell me the house is the first thing to go. Dust thickens, dishes stack up, laundry piles up. So today, a rare day when I get more than 30 minutes to myself, I cleaned. I cleaned because the house may usually be the first thing to go, but with me, it’s the second. Exercising is the first thing to go. I think I’d rather be fat in a clean house than skinny in a filthy one. I have quickly learned that myself comes last when there is a family. The whole family shares the house, but only I will be miserable in ten extra pounds. Cleaning it is. You’re welcome, thunder thighs – you get to stay a little while longer.