"...when I'm more than I thought I could be. When all of my dreams are a heartbeat away, and the answers are all. up. to. me."
Oh, Whitney. How we miss you.
Now that the little sing-along is out of my system, I'll reveal the point. Or rather, the lead-in to my topic for the day: TIME.
Not the magazine. The seconds, minutes and hours of the day that there don't seem to be enough of lately. Unless, of course, those seconds, minutes and hours are filled with the loud and oh-so-sad screaming of my infant (who's currently dealing with a bout of tummy troubles), and then time slows to a near standstill.
It's recently dawned on me that I have a new system for prioritizing those precious, few moments I might have when my little one is snoozing. And that prioritization is pretty darn simple. I just ask myself: "If I have time to do just one thing before she wakes, what am I gonna do?"
Unfortunately, the answer often involves something productive and/or necessary, like laundry, showering, or cleaning up the questionable dry spots on my hardwood floors that look a lot like spit up from an over-the-shoulder, walking burp session. But every now and again, like this very moment, the answer is something totally superfluous. Like: sitting on my rear-end googling celebrity gossip, or reading a few pages of a book so I feel a little more like my pre-mommy self. Those moments do a body good. Just like milk.
How many seconds, minutes, or--dare-I-dream?--hours do you think I have this time before my sweet baby girl wakes?
Don't answer that.
But while you ponder it, take a look at this photo. It's what exhaustion looks like.
P.S. Don't worry. Roxie the Owl only keeps watch of baby girl when there's additional, adult supervision nearby. I'm aware of the fact that most doctors and medical professionals want the crib to be a darn-near sterile environment these days. Boo.
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