Before I had a baby my weekends stretched widely before me on Friday afternoons. I might go to happy hour. Might go home and run. Might spend hours walking through Target with friends. Then Saturday would invariably involve sleeping in while my husband had practice, lounging, running, the Sunday Times. Sundays were days for brunch, thinking about doing school work, lounging in front of the television.
Now that I have a baby I’d love to say that nothing has changed. That my weekends are still cherished times for doing nothing but spending time together. But of course that’s not true.
I went out yesterday to a book signing in Hoboken and then to dinner with friends while my husband watched the baby. Dinner turned into dinner and drinks, which turned into me getting home at midnight. Let me tell you, I discovered yesterday that I am no longer someone who can roll in at midnight and function the next day.
But that’s the thing about babies–they demand that you function. And on the day after Daylight Savings Time, they demand that you function EARLY. So we woke up this morning at what felt like 5:30. Fortunately she went down for a 2 hour nap and I got to catch up on rest. But even so the day did not unfold in a leisurely manner. My husband and I are both training for races (me the Brooklyn Half, him the NYC Marathon), so the three of us trekked to the park where I ran and he pushed the carriage then he ran and I pushed the carriage. Then it was my brother-in-law’s birthday dinner, then bed for the girl and cleaning the house.
It is now 9:22 and I’m wiped out. I envy pre-baby Liz her endless Sundays, her choice about what to do, her luxuriating brunches. Weekends, now, are times to spend with family, yes, but also times to do all of the things I didn’t do during the week, to try to squeeze in seeing other people, to hopefully take some time for myself. Still, I’ll take my new weekend reality over my old one any day. Plus, now that I have a baby I can go to sleep at 9:24 without shame!