I no longer have my two point five-ish hours every morning. I must complete all the hearing of thinking self before 8:00, when they get up. This has been a big adjustment for me. Bigger than I thought. I mean, it's feeling like I have a baby again -- a baby that I'm feeding via mammary glands. The last few days have brought some flashbacks from past adjustments. Would you care for said flashbacks?
Yahoo #1 was a few weeks old. This was nine years ago (Yahoo #1 is nine now). Before having the child, I had purchased my very first MP3 player. It was my favorite piece of equipment for everything. Even with its measly 64 megs. Can you buh-lieve that? 64 megs? It held 14ish songs -- how pathetic! Anyway, I had just gotten back to running. I think I was up to 4 miles. One morning, I got up, pumped (yeah, loved that), and headed out, only to discover that the MP3 had gone kaput.
No tunes for my run.
Here I was, in June 2001, ready to run while listening to something angry and the angry wouldn't come on. Here I was, ready to partake in my one and only luxury of the day, a luxury that required tunes, and there were no tunes. I was so very pissed off. I'm trying to find a few words to describe the pissed off-ness. Smoke steam out of the ears? Nope, too mellow. Dragon rage? Nope, dragons are nice in comparison. Mother bear who lost her cub? Nope, nada. How about... PMS AVENGER COMING OFF THE CRACK. That's it. I was as pissed as a PMS Avenger coming off the crack.
It's just a stupid MP3 player, right? Wrong. It was my best friend. And being as I had quit my million-dollar-a-year job, we no longer had cash to replace stuff. I could not go out and buy me a new one. So just as I was ready to pull out every last hair on my head, lashes and limbs, the sprinklers came on. I stomped into the middle of the grass, sprinklers-just-a-running, stood there, and cried.
That was when Spouse presented himself, wearing nothing but a towel and brushing his teeth. He does that, you know, presents himself publicly in a towel while brushing his teeth. Sometimes he's shaving instead of brushing the teeth.
"We can bur yur a nure one." Said he, in that dialect taught in dental school.
I swear. If it hadn't been time to feed the baby (or change a diaper, or give him a bath or...) I would have jumped him right then and there.
Finally, when Yahoo #1 was about 7 months old. I found a babysitter to ski. Can you imagine? A whole day to ski? After a whole year of the no-ski punishment fer being the Pregasaurus Rex? Sweet! Except I had to pump the jugs in the car. So there I was, parked in the ski resort's parking lot, in the back seat. Pumping. That sucked. Literally.