The cottonwood is blooming, which means itchy eyes, a runny nose, and more sneezes than I know what to do with. For me. Nobody else is affected, which means I spend a lot of these sunny afternoons watching my children through panes of glass as they frolic in the backyard.
Katie, meanwhile, is dealing with her very first cold. This means a runny nose and weepy red eyes for her. It also means that if she’s awake, she needs to be held. By somebody. Most often, me. You put her down? WAAAAAAA! (From her. And then, me.)
I have essentially turned into a human Barcalounger for a three-month-old. My activities are limited to what I can accomplish with only one hand:
2. surfing the Internet
3. loading/unloading the dishwasher
4. goading children into homework/piano practice with a riding crop
Well, maybe not the riding crop. But that’s about it. I made an attempt to stir-fry green curry vegetables while holding Katie, and ended up accidentally dumping half of the vegetables on the floor. Aaargh. And keep in mind that during all this, I keep sneezing — and I’m a repeat sneezer, ricocheting off at least 5-7 sneezes with every go. (My personal record? 23 sneezes in a row, set when I was fourteen. It hurt.)
In other words, not a whole lot is getting accomplished around here. But I’ve found that, when parenting newborns, one of the secrets of success is to have very low expectations for yourself. Caring for the baby is the Main Job. Everything else is just gravy, right?
If only I could convince my nagging sense of guilt that this were true.