I used to know what day it was everyday. There used to be a difference between my days. Each “day” was separated by a night. During this “night” I slept, which helped me to distinguish between one day and the next. When I “woke up” for the day, it meant I was not going to sleep again until that night, further enforcing the idea of “day time.” During these “waking hours” I did stuff. That stuff differed according to what “day” it was. Those “days” came in sets of 5 to create the “work week” which then was rewarded by the “weekend.”

Now my life seems just like one long, giant, extended day.

Because I wake up every two hours during the night to feed her, the night is no longer perceived as one chunk of time, but rather broken up pieces of the day I just lived. Because my sleep is so irregular, I find my self “sleeping when the baby sleeps” and napping more during the day. Since neither during the day or night I sleep more than 2 hours in a row, I just feel like I am always in a haze of just waking up, or trying to fall back asleep.

Because my current “job” is to take care of my baby, there is no more weekday or weekend. There is just the 24-hour a day responsibility of being a mom. Yes, this is much more enjoyable and emotionally enriching than “working,” but there is no off time. No coffee break. No Columbus Day off type of thing.

Although there are no days off from being a mom… and the only thing that distinguishes yesterday from today is the fact that other people insist upon it… In my world of life beyond time, I am having one amazing day.

(Doesn’t it look like she is saying “Wait… give me a minute…” Ha! Like she knows what a minute is)