Week 7: the weak-end becomes The Weekend

A few weeks ago, I was frazzled and Dave said, “Don’t worry, the weekend is only a few days away.” I was all, “HaHaHaHaHa! ‘The weekend’ is just another day to me.”

That was, now that I think back on it, rather rude of me.

To Dave, the weekend is a time when he is here and can help take the load off of me. And he does that–and does it gladly, and does it well. But still, for the past six weeks, “the weekend” was truly just another day because all days bled together in one Motrin and Colace-induced haze of boobs, fretting, eating, not sleeping, and Law and Order episodes. I just couldn’t enjoy “the weekend.”

But this weekend, was awesome. It was productive, fun, restful and romantic. {Dave would be puzzled by the last descriptor there, but I find taking me to the mall, pushing the stroller the whole time, helping me pick out a dress at Ann Taylor and then making me pancakes the next day quite romantic.}  

Some highlights of my first real, post-baby weekend:

I got stuff done: Saturday morning, I went to the bank, wrote one more thank you note, took Georgia to the groomer, and got my nails did {we have established how important productivity is to me}. While I was doing all of that, Dave was out on the town with Suzianne:

Baby’s first metro ride:  Saturday afternoon, we took the Metro to the mall. It was Suzianne’s first Metro ride! She was wide-awake and semi-cranky as we strolled the three blocks to the station, waited for, and boarded the train:

The train started moving; after about 60 seconds, she was out cold:

And she stayed that way for three hours, enabling Team Newman to take advantage of amazing sales at Cole Haan, Ann Taylor and Macy’s.

The next day, we all piled up in the bed until Noon, rotating shifts on feeding, diapering, napping and picture-taking:

I even read a book! It’s hilarious. I love Mindy Kaling.

And finally, there were pancakes (with Flax seed to boost breast milk production) and…wait for it…sugar-coated bacon. I am not even joking. Dave made it and I ate nearly all of it:

So what if Sunday night, Suzianne only went three hours between feedings and then decided sleep was no longer an option from 3 to 8 a.m. 

The weekend and I are reunited and I’ve ingested, like, seven pounds of bacon.

Now, there’s nothing I can’t handle and you should all be very afraid.

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