Historically, Wednesdays are tough days for me when it comes to this home-alone-with-a-newborn thing.
Wednesday is not Monday. I spend Sunday afternoon and evening gearing myself up to meet Monday head on. It’s not Tuesday, when I enjoy the pleasant remnants of Monday’s preparations and allow myself a slower pace and a bit of rest. It’s also not Thursday or Friday at which point the weekend, and company and an extra pair of hands, are all solidly in sight.
Wednesday is the day I should be settling into the rhythm of the week. But I’m not.
Instead, Wednesday is my third day of limited mobility. There are only certain hours of the day during which I can go downstairs to put laundry in the drier. Only certain times at which I can take a shower. Only certain moments during which I can regroup. Wednesday is the third day of me left alone with my thoughts. It’s when I think too much about what life is like now compared to five weeks ago or fifteen weeks ago or a year ago. It’s when I think too much about the future and how am I ever going to mother these two children on top of family and work and writing and… I fret until I shake.
Wednesday was the day that I so memorably locked myself out of my house and my daughter inside.
It’s the day my confidence dips.
Can I really make it to the grocery store this afternoon? Can I do it on my own with a 5-week old? Should I leave him in the carseat and put the carseat in the cart? Or should I put him in the Bjorn? Will I be judged for leaving him in the carseat? Will I be able to get him in the Bjorn in the cold parking lot without hurting either of us?
Wednesday is the day I wonder if I can make it to the grocery store. I wonder how bad it will really be if we run out of milk.
Wednesday is the day when I forget that this is just a moment in time. And when this moment passes, I will return to a life in which a trip to the grocery store happens without a second thought and is nothing more than a passing errand in the sprint that is my day. Wednesday is the day when I get caught up in the world that doesn’t stop, or even slow, just because I’ve had a baby. Instead, I spend the day wishing it would slow because then I wouldn’t feel so far behind.
But Wednesday itself is just a moment in time. And when it is over, we’ll find ourselves on Thursday. With the weekend in sight.
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