The new normal is feeling not-normal.
It means feeling mostly disoriented – whether it’s confusion about the actual day (I swear, on Sunday I thought it was Thursday, so in a conversation with a neighbor who’s husband is a teacher, I genuinely asked what time he would be coming home from his workday), my current location, or knocking over a glass and shattering it for no apparent reason (nothing hit my arm or was in the way). It means feeling constant aches in my body, as if I’ve run marathons every week, and feeling muscles that are throbbing like I’m working on a tree farm or carrying buckets all day long. It means being hungry all day long (even though I’m definitely not pregnant, but I guess I am breast-feeding so, I concede/hope that could possibly be it) and going back for seconds…on dessert-type food, like ice cream, as in getting a double scoop ice cream cone, and then going back for a cup of lemon Italian ice. Yes, I did that yesterday at Bruster’s. It means suddenly being grumpy and irritable for absolutely no reason at all. It means wearing black yoga pants and nursing tanks day in and day out (as in what I wore at night I am now wearing during the day). It means brushing my teeth is a victory. It means taking an hour to really formulate a paragraph that partially makes sense. It means obsessing over the cleanliness of the kitchen counters but not caring that I smell like baby vomit and maybe have a yellow stain on my arm (from baby droppings). It means getting excited about the babies taking a spoonful of rice-cereal and not letting it totally dribble down all over their front and on their onesie, legs, and Bumbo. It means doing my best reflecting as I fold cloth diapers. It means trying to type with a baby-boy that is pounding on my laptop like it’s his job and somehow I’m in his way.
It means constantly feeling off-balance, and on my toes…so I don’t fall completely flat on my face, especially if I’m carrying a baby!