The Lies We Tell

Lesalina_Beholder Bathroom

I woke up with a headache. I had one too many "Mom's night out cocktails" and Henry was up all night teething. Daniel is out of town so it was all me, all night. 

"I shouldn't have gone out last night. That was stupid to let loose when I'm on night duty alone," I thought. 

LIE. I needed that night. 

I brought Henry to bed with me around 5 am and he of course slept like a little angel, snuggled up next to me his skin looking softer than usual, his face just a little chubbier than I remembered it being yesterday. 

We were supposed to be at his second day of daycare in an hour. 

"Never wake a sleeping baby" I heard a voice say in my head as I gently rubbed his tummy, trying to wake him. Then I remembered where that got me.

LIE. Thanks to that little saying, my baby was at one point sleeping more than six hours a day...and I couldn't figure out why he wasn't sleeping at night. He was supposed to get somewhere around 3.5 at that age. So, I woke the baby. 

An hour later, as I pulled away from the daycare (and by daycare I mean he's currently one of two babies at a very nice lady's home) I waited for emotion to overwhelm me since it hadn't on the first day. Wasn't I supposed to tear up as I left her house? Wasn't this supposed to be awful? What's wrong with me? Shouldn't I feel guilt? Is it because I wasn't going to a "real" job from there? Was it because it's not a "real" daycare?

LIES, LIES, LIES.  I pondered these things as I drove home and then I promptly took a nap. 

"Sleep when the baby sleeps!" they said.

LIE. I don't need 15 hours of sleep in a given 24-hours. I don't even like napping. But for once, I decided sleep was in order. 

This time, I woke up with a headache and now, a side of guilt. I should have been cleaning the house. Or purging my postpartum closet. Or getting out into the workforce! You know, doing it all.

LIES. I did exactly what I should have done. I slept. I watched 1/3 of an episode of Ina Garten and thought a lot about Julia Child (happy birthday, may you be roasting chickens in peace) and missed my mom and drank a hot cup of coffee. I ate leftover Chinese food and made plans with friends. I wrote this. 

And you know what? I'm not one bit sorry. Not for any of it.