Weekend Schmeekend

I've been told it's Saturday. Well, it sure doesn't feel like Saturday, but I just confirmed it with the calendar. Saturday. Weekend. 

It sure takes on a whole different meaning when you're a mom, and especially a stay-at-home mom (for now - back to work first thing in October). Weekends used to mean friends and parties and late nights and special occasions. Now there is not a thing different between my Saturday night and my Wednesday night. 

Oh wait, that's a lie. Wednesday was better, because Big Brother was on. But that's not the point. 

I've come such a long way from the uptight, completely stressed out mess that I was when I first had Chloe. I never thought I was much of a control freak, and in so many ways I'm not, but with Chloe I want to be. We strive on it. 

When she was a newborn, I was near killing myself always trying to sleep whenever I could, somehow fit in bottle washing and the occasional bite to eat. I was wearing myself down, in a bad way. When I moved into my own apartment it, and it was just me and Chloe things somehow got easier. I don't know how that's possible, but they did. 

Finally, we got into a decent night time routine and I found myself having a few minutes each night to wind down before bed. Soon enough it was an hour, two hours, and now I typically get 3-5 hours to myself after bedtime. 

I can finally relax, sometimes, but I'm still always trying to get things done. With just one baby, one boyfriend, and one part-time second child, I still can't seem to get ahead. 

There's always things I want to do, and at the end of the day, the only thing that gets done is the cleaning. I can't get myself to relax until the cleaning is done, and so everything I enjoy gets thrown on the back burner. And soon I'll be back to work full-time, and I don't know what will happen to me from there. I'm an just one huge mess of wannabe control freak. 

And that's why boyfriend is good for me. When he's around is the only time I will sit down, relax and just watch tv. No thinking, worrying, or cleaning. Just being. It's such a good thing. 

While this motherhood thing is quite amazing, and nothing makes me happier than seeing that little girl smile, sometimes (only sometimes) I mourn my old life. The one with the friends, the constant parties, the random shopping trips, the eating out, and doing nothing but relaxing after work. 

Time to put on my big girl pants and suck it up, because I'll never have that life back. Really, I'd never want to, but it's okay to daydream every now and then. 

This face makes me melt