Yes, thought, past tense. Now, I feel her anger bubbling up through cell phone towers and email pings. I'm late with work, and I'm sloppy. She's sent me back articles that needed to be proofed again and again and again. I'm supposed to be the editor! I kept missing so many details. It didn't help that at first, Psycho Postpartum Shosh lurked around every corner: constantly anxious and debilitatingly jealous (that's like 78 blog posts and a memoir). I got help for that and Psycho Shosh has very much left the building. However, my work still suffers, and I didn't really know what to say. What is there to say?
Finally, my designer had enough. She made a two-hour trip to kick my butt. We made a list of deadlines. I had to stick with them. I certainly didn't want to loose our team.
Today was deadline day. All of my final edited copy had to be sent. All photos emailed. I shouldn't have gotten through this day. It was the Giant Gentiles birthday, but he was leaving on a business trip. The Great Rabbi needed me to drop his many snacks off at Jewish Day School. (I could write a whole essay on the amount of food I'm supposed to pack for that kid's lunch). I promised I'd go to a staff meeting at 9 am. My babysitter is in Atlantic City.
Now, I'm lucky in many ways. I can usually work from home or a coffee shop. If I do go to work in the morning, I can put my baby in babysitting in the building until 11:30. The babysitting room is ten feet from my office. I can even breastfeed her in the babysitting room. However, if I don't get everything done by 11:30, I have to take her with me into my office or go home.
|The Queen Mum working her magic|
I brought her into my office. Everyone acts like they don't care, but how can they not care? Even when she's not crying, she's loud. Is it really professional to walk passed my office with a baby on my desk? I put her on the floor, and she spit up on the new carpet. Then she screamed. Then, I had to close my door and feed her. Then, she screamed some more. The CFO came in and decided to walk her around the building. I fed her again. I moved her. I rocked her. I ran to my car to get my sling. She didn't want to be in the sling. She sat in my arms: both arms. All of the sudden it was pickup time for my son. I got another mom to get him. Then time passed and I had to run home. And then, and then, and then.....
Oh my g-d, I'm out of breath.
And yet, somehow, in the middle of all this chaos; in the middle of this baby day that should have been completely unproductive that, in most working environments, would have gotten me fired, I managed to do it. I got everything into my designer by the evening. I made my Monday deadline.
What does this mean? Do I celebrate or do I just breath and hope everything doesn't fall apart in the morning?