I'm not sure I know what that means anymore, but I'm going to give it a try anyway.
After three weeks of recovery, seemingly constant visits by relatives, doctors appointments, and general chaos, today it has all but come to an end. Thursday will be the last of the doctor's appointments for a while. John is going to the ENT to have his frenulum examined. Since we left the hospital, nursing hasn't gone well at all. The lactation consultant we visited thought his short frenulum was to blame and suggested we have it clipped. In the meantime, I have been pumping close to 32 oz of milk a day for John, which is time-consuming and inconvenient to say the least. Hopefully, Thursday things will be taken care of and he'll be able to nurse easily for the first time. After the ENT appointment, Sam, John, and I are going up to Asheville to visit with my aunt and grandmother, and John and I will be having our post-delivery chiropractic adjustment. After that, there will be no more doctor appointments until July. That in itself is cause for celebration, as I'm sure you, my dear readers, are as sick to death of my writing about them as I am at having to go to them.
Part two of my returning to normalcy plan is to get this cursed baby weight off me. I didn't enjoy carrying around the extra weight when I was a walking baby life support system, and I like it even less now. Nothing fits right--and for that I mostly blame my newly DD-sized breasts--that are generally taking up too damn much room in my sized for C-cup clothes--and my not-clued-in-to-the-fact-that-I'm-not-pregnant-anymore poochy stomach. I joined Weight Watchers again this afternoon. I'm going to do it online for 3 months and see how it goes, since I'm not sure I'll be able to make the meetings. Weight Watchers really helped me lose the baby weight with Sam last time, and I have high hopes about its efficacy again. Once John is 8 weeks old, I can hit the gym again, and I intend to hit it hard. I have dreams of becoming a passable excuse for an athlete and want to compete in a mini-marathon or mini-triathlon sometime before I die. I've been out of shape a long time, so it's time to get cracking.
I also intend to get myself a good haircut in the very near future. The no-makeup, ponytail look is making me nuts. I feel like I've backslid to elementary school, which was the last time my beauty routine was so low maintenance.
And last, but definitely not least, is finishing my novel and getting started on the sequel. Next week, if not before, I will start working on it again. Right now I'm just feeling terribly disorganized and am in such a state of torpor that I haven't found the strength of will to do anything about it. I thought sending Sam to preschool 3 days a week would free up more time for myself, but between taking him and coming home, picking him up and coming home, and scheduling doctor's appointments and errands for the short window of time before drop off and pick up, and then squeezing in a feeding and a pumping for John, I'm realizing that I'd have almost been better off if we'd all just stayed home.
And so it goes... That's the view of normal right now from here.