Today a few things happened.
(PS. I want you all to know that I actually do hum the theme from Doogie Howser MD as I write these posts. Before I had a blog, I wondered if I would. And I do.)
So, today a few things happened.
One. Odessa was whisked away by her grandparents to Rockdale County, which is either 8 or 9 counties away from me, depending on how you do your county counting.
Two. I threw away all my breast milk that had expired. More on this later.
Three. I indulged in a leisurely visit with my dear friends, a. Vicki, who is dear because she, like my mom, would cheer me on even in the event that I was knife fighting Jimmy Carter and the Dali Lama AT THE SAME TIME, b. Rob, who is dear because he starts conversations like this: "Jesslyn, when you were little, did you like Christmas?" and c. Finnegan, who is dear because he is an adorable and charismatic baby (that's him in this post's photo disguised as an elephant. I can tell you're perplexed, but trust me on this one: that's Finnegan in his Halloween costume, and not an actual elephant.)
So, I took this day to consider being alone, because with the exception of a couple of hours here and there, I was by myself for a lot of the day. To some of you, this might be a completely normal thing, but to me, who is someone's mother and somebody else's wife, and yet some other people's employee/ friend/daughter/consultant/etc, I am very rarely out of earshot of another person. This is actually okay with me. However, being alone gives you a little time to think. And today I thought about how different my life is now than it used to be.
Of course people tell you that when you're pregnant: "You better enjoy this because your life is never going to be the same ever again." So naturally I thought having a baby would be sort of like getting a colostomy bag. Well, thankfully, it's not at all like getting a colostomy bag, but they were right in some ways. For instance, last October, I never would have spent an afternoon throwing away plastic baggies full of expired breast milk.
FYI. When Odessa was a newborn, my family called me the Dairy Queen, because I had a milk supply that could probably have fed twin rhinoceros cubs. Since March, our freezer has been so crammed full of little Ziplocs of milk that there was no place for the Fudgecicles and those frozen burritos that I eat for breakfast every day. So, today I filled up a giant garbage bag and took it to the curb. It made me feel kind of sad, throwing away all that milk. Kind of like I was throwing away evidence that Odessa was ever a little grubby blueberry who pooped crude oil and needed to nurse every 7.5 minutes. Odessa's getting to be such a big girl now--spending the day in Rockdale County without me, living long enough for a garbage bag full of breast milk to expire.... So tonight when she came home from Rockdale County, I gave her an extra long snuggle and sang "Moon River" all the way through twice. Because it's nice to spend a day alone, but it's doubly nice when you get your people back at the end.