As I mentioned in my previous post, I have officially rejoined the work force after 13 weeks of maternity leave spent loving on and caring for my newborn son. It’s hard to believe he’s 3 months old and my leave is already over, and while dropping him off in the care of others for nearly 10 hours a day is SUPER difficult for me, it’s probably a good thing that I’ve reclaimed a little bit of my independence and am socializing with full-grown people again. Spending the majority of your day with a little person can do funny things to you.
A few days ago at work, I referred to myself as “Mama.” Thank goodness none of my coworkers heard it or I might have died of embarrassment. Of course I’m used to referring to myself as Mama when I’m interacting with my son, but it’s taken on a life of it’s own. I call myself Mama when talking to the cat, and occasionally when talking to myself. I used to have my own name… what was that again? And since when did I find it so normal to refer to myself in the third person?
Prior to my maternity leave, I was SO self-conscious to leave my house in anything but “real” clothes. It was a rare occasion to catch me in exercise clothes or yoga pants outside my house unless it was 8am and I was running to the gas station 2 minutes down the road for milk. Well considering the only clothes that actually fit me right now are made of 98% spandex (or so it seems), I am MUCH more likely to say “eh, they’ll be looking at the baby anyways” and run to Target, the grocery store, or even a doctor’s appointment in clothes that would likely get me a nomination for “What Not To Wear” on TLC. Walking counts as exercise, right? Even if it’s while pushing a cart through the aisles of Target?
Now that I am so used to having my little bitty nugget son in the car with me almost everywhere I go, I’ve turned into the quintessential “Baby On Board” driver. That’s not to say I have the placard hanging in my rear window (most definitely not), but I am hyper-vigilant about the laws of the road and safety while driving. More than once a trip I’ll catch myself uttering something along the lines of “crazy driver! What’s your hurry?? Maniac!” as a speeding car goes whizzing past me. Five miles an hour over the speed limit is my limit now, even in a state where there are no rules when it comes to driving in rush-hour traffic. Seriously, I’ve seen cars driving the wrong way on the shoulder of the highway if there is a traffic jam just so they can make it back to the previous exit, and motorcycles whizzing through stopped cars if there’s a long line at a red light. And I find myself thinking “kids these days…” Apparently I’m and 87 year old Floridian.
But that’s not even scratching the surface. I hardly recognize the songs on the radio, frequently miss references to pop culture trivia, and seriously, you should have seen my first attempt at driving after having the baby. Let’s just say it’s a good thing no one was coming in the opposite direction. It was APRIL the last time I spent any real amount of time out-and-about around adults besides family members. I’ve got a bit of re-acclimating to do
I miss my little man tremendously during the day while I’m at work, but I realize the value in spending time with adults as well now. Not to mention I can use the bathroom whenever I want without having to worry about my son crying in the next room. Plus if we’re going to put a rosy glow on the reality that is being a “working mom,” it’s that I have so much cuteness to look forward to on the weekend!
Hello world, it’s nice to be back!