When Alex was three weeks old I was longing for, nay, dying for, a schedule of some kind. A bright (early) Monday morning I woke with the determination to find something that resembled a routine.
Alex was napping someplace that was NOT in my arms or on my chest, so I went downstairs, took out smoothie ingredients from the fridge – yogurt, milk, strawberries – and from the cabinet – whey powder, flax seed, peanut butter, oatmeal.
I made a yummy, delicious smoothie, I poured coffee, I made waffles (in the toaster), I poured orange juice. Complete breakfast bliss.
I put everything away, went upstairs, Alex was awake, we talked about food and how it smelled, then we took a walk and watched some Sesame Street (with “Donald Grump” and “Omagrossa” and Elmo stole DG’s wig and DG said that was no problem, he had more, and whipped out a new one, so both DG and Elmo were wearing DG wigs.)
This lovely morning gave me hope that Alex and I could enjoy more mornings like this, but of course, Tuesday and Wednesday mornings quickly became clustersmacks of real life instead of a cereal commercial.
Thursday morning I woke and walked downstairs to make my smoothie. I took out smoothie ingredients from the fridge – milk, strawberries – and from the cabinet – whey powder, flax seed, yogurt, peanut butter, oatm…… whoa….. yogurt doesn’t belong in the cabinet.