I was fairly naive about most things regarding how a baby would change my life. I don't mean my life in large, like how much I would love the baby or how much I would worry about the baby or how having a baby would change the very fibers of who I am. Those things, I knew would happen though I did not know to what large extent. But I was naive as to how having a baby would change my day to day life, and in some ways, how it wouldn't change my day to day life.
I had a pretty clear picture of what I would be like after having Norah. I imagined that I would wake early, mostly because she would wake early and be ready to start the day. I thought that by this time, 12 weeks later, I would be a certified morning person who was ok with getting up at 6am. Instead I have this baby who is fine with sleeping in as long as she is sleeping in with me. As a result we have a hard time getting out of the door before noon. And I am still a certified morning hater. I imagined that I would be a great housewife. This delusion is similar to one I had in the time before Rusty and I were actually married and one I had when we were preparing to move from a nasty apartment to a nice house. I imagined I would enjoy spending my days cleaning the house, organizing, decorating, taking care of errands, gardening, and above all cooking for my husby. Clearly I am insane. I will clean (don't you laugh Rusty!) but only when the house becomes nearly unlivable or when Rusty makes me. I actually do enjoy organizing and decorating but I lack the energy and drive. I loathe running errands, I will only garden if the weather is perfect to my sensitive self. And cooking. Oh cooking, how you torture my soul. You'd think that I would have learned this delusion of housewifery is indeed a delusion, but no, I still believed it.
And reading. Oh reading how I miss you. How I miss laying in bed reading and eating cereal and drinking coffee until late in the morning. How I miss laying in bed reading until late in the night. How I miss reading in the tub, or curled up in my chair, or at the pool, or in the car. But it is so hard to read when you have an infant in the house, an infant who sleeps an average of 3 hours during the day, 3 hours that I need to shower and eat and go to the bathroom and cook (haaaaaa!) and clean (haaahaaaa!). I have read one full book this summer, read it while Norah was still teeny and slept more. But the non-sleeper, she does not let me read.
I had high hopes of reading Anna Karenina, of reading Sex and the City, of reading...anything. Turns out reading was another one of those naive delusions.
And just wait until I tell you about the delusions I had about the transition from young marrieds to young parents.