Ambition

Holy shit today is amazing.

Turns out Olive had thrush (which is an overgrowth of yeast in her mouth – likely caused by the antibiotics I got after my C-section) and we started medicine for it yesterday- already it’s disappeared from her mouth and she seems so much happier for it.

I mean she was a pretty easy, happy baby anyway but she had her bouts of fussiness and gassy spells and hey! turns out it was because her mouth was sore and so she was nursing weirdly and swallowing too much air and hey! it’s also why my nipples were suddenly so sore and sensitive. Wish I had figured this out two weeks ago! 

Last night she seemed so much more peaceful and instead of grunting and straining and kicking for hours, she was tooting contentedly like a cowboy after a full can o’ beans.

That’s my girl!

This morning Adam and I sat and did some invoices for his business, then he headed into work and little Olive and I headed out to run errands. We went to the post office and then tackled one of the things I’ve been putting off forever – the grocery store.

Something about it just terrified me. I had visions of running through the aisles like a madwoman, frantically throwing anything that vaguely resembled food into my cart as Olive shrieked uncontrollably at the top of her lungs and projectile vomited everywhere. People would be staring at me and whispering behind their hands, old ladies would be tut-tutting and judging me and basically the grocery store was the final frontier of venturing out the a new baby.

(Mothers with toddlers – you know, what babies become when they are mobile and verbal and actually functioning with a stubborn little mind of their own- are laughing at me right now.)

(Also: The fact that Olive has neither shrieked uncontrollably nor projectile vomited, ever, was irrelevant. Obviously.)

I was nervous as she was alarmingly alert when I strapped her into the Ergo, but by the time I hit the grocery store doors she was fast asleep, her head bobbing against my chest. It was a glorious experience, I strolled leisurely around the store and got everything done without a peep from little O. I got home just as she was starting to fuss, I fed her and then popped her in her little chair for a second to go switch her laundry and when I came back, she was asleep.

Asleep! Soundly, without rocking or shushing or being in my arms. She’s been sleeping for almost two hours now and I have done pretty much everything that needed to be done – and then some.

My list of small accomplishments reads: Laundry done, garbages emptied and recycling taken out, cloth diapers prepped, Gus brushed and fed, house vacuumed and mopped, sheets washed – zeut alors I feel like I’ve had eight cappucionos, run a marathon and punched Chuck Norris in the face!

I know some women find it hard to adjust to this condensed world, this abridged existence, but I’ve never been particularly ambitious. Instead I’ve had the awkward distinction of being a feminist who also wishes she was a 1950’s housewife. It’s somehow embarrassing to admit how much satisfaction I get from a well organized linen closet, from burying my nose into the top of Olive’s furry little head (which is getting less furry by the day – do they make baby toupees?)

I am content within this little world, this humble progression of tiny socks and bath time. I’m thoroughly besotted, incredibly content within this role of “mother”.  

And today was a good day, a great day. I couldn’t ask for anything more.