Virtual Coffee Date? (Monday Ramblings)

Care to join me for a virtual coffee date?  I could use a chat, a friend, and some more coffee.

If we were really having coffee this is what I'd tell you...

I'd tell you that today I wish Starbucks (or any coffee label) offered coffee directly via IV.  My 1 cupper isn't making the cut today.  Sadly, I cannot get a 2nd cup unless 1. I want to drink it black.  There is no dairy free creamer around these parts.  2. I want to risk too much caffiene in my milk supply.  Alas, I will suffer through my heavy eyes and nagging headache until this day is done.

I'd tell you that I am exhausted.  Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

I'd tell you that I feel like a failure.  I'm the girl, the woman, the wife, that has it all together.  My house wasn't always  perfect, but it was usually clean.  The laundry was rarely a "day late."  Dinner wasn't something I thought too much in advance about, it would just be made and ready on time.  That's not the case anymore. These days, I can barely remember to brush my teeth.  I cannot keep up with the demand that surrounds me.  The clothes are cleaned, but stacked mountain high on the living room love seat.  The dishes are done, but only because Ryan did them.  Dinner in the crock pot, but it was a last minute-thrown-together-I-hope-I-pushed-the-on-button kind of morning.

I'd tell you that Emma has red rings around her eyes from being up all night grunting.  I wish with all my heart that I could take her tiredness and place it upon myself, even with my current exhaustion level.  I hate to see my baby so uncomfortable and cranky.

I'd tell you that this morning, I feel exceptionally frumpy.  I feel like I have that typical "thrown together" mommy look.  The one that screams "I'm tired.  I need more coffee.  I don't have time to look 'good'."

I'd tell you that I barely have time to think let alone work out.  This depresses me.  I have 11 pounds to lose and lots of toning to do.  I don't forsee an opening in my schedule any time soon for me to accomplish these goals.  I miss running.  I need the outlet...to feel good.  I feel fat.  I feel flabby.  I cannot stand the side of myself in the mirror.

I'd tell you that last week, my first week back to work, I had a smidge of self-confidence.  I even wore heels instead of flats, and dare I say, I felt like I looked good.  If I didn't, I walked a little taller and smiled a little bigger.  Heels have a way of making you feel feminine, confident.

I'd tell you that I worry too much.  I worry that I'm letting Ryan down.  I worry that I'm letting Emma down.

I'd tell you that working, mothering, and being a wife is the most exhausting job combination.  It's rewarding...when I have time to sit, reflect, and feel the reward - which is rarely. 

I'd tell you that since being back at work I'm so easily frustrated.  My usual patient self has a very short fuse.  I don't snap or get angry.  I get anxiety.  I feel trapped, unable to breathe, and unable to fix the problem or find a solution.

I'd tell you that I enjoyed doing nothing but snuggling my baby yesterday.  That same pile of laundry still piled up, but my baby needed to be close to me.  I cannot deny her.  I want to get my house in order, but I must be a mother first.

I'd tell you that I have no time for myself.  There are projects, crafts, plans I'd like to invest even a small amount of time in, but I just can't right now.

I'd tell you that I'm tired.  Always tired.

I'd tell you that tears sting my eyes now as I think about the roles I can barely fill now and wonder if I'll ever be able to focus on Logan again.

I'd tell you that that one thought breaks my heart into a million pieces.  I haven't visited his grave in months.  I haven't thought about Logan's Hope or the Build-A-Boxes for the NICU.  I miss him.  I miss thinking of him and focusing on him.  I miss "mothering" him....

I'd tell you that I wish so badly I could be a stay at home mom.  Not just to be with Emma, but so that I could give myself 110% to my family, to my husband, to my daughter.

I'd tell you that I think (and HOPE) that this is all a phase, another stepping stone, another change to get used to.  This transition is just one of many to come...

After I told you all these things, I'd ask how you are.  I'd thank you for listening.  I'd ask if you wanted to have another coffee date soon.  I'd give you a hug and silently thank the heavens for a friend like you. <3