you know you're a new, working mom, or just a new mom, when…

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I wrote this in the months after having my son nearly 7 years ago.  How far I’ve come, but for a lot of new moms, you’re still here. Be strong. It gets easier. Also, it’s ok to ask for help. You don’t need to do this alone. 

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If I had a blog, it would be called the Perpetual Ponytail, because not only is this the only hairstyle I can muster before throwing myself out the door to work in the morning, but it's the only one that keeps little hands from tearing it out of my noggin.  I would of course love to have a blog notating all the crazy interactions with my amaze-balls son, but seriously two full-time jobs is enough and I can't take on another unpaid gig. Here are a few other things I have noticed as a new mom and as a working mom.  

Your third trimester insomnia has been replaced by sleep deprivation so severe it leaves you with an innate ability to fall asleep anywhere. Yes, anywhere - hunched over nursing, in bed nursing, in the car nursing, on the toilet (hopefully not nursing). Anywhere. 

Looking like a zombie - so tired

Looking like a zombie - so tired

Tired but happy

Tired but happy

You have literally begged your 3-week old to please just let you sleep a few minutes longer. 

You have begged God, whether you believe in her or not, to please just let you sleep a few minutes longer. 

You have begged your significant other to please just let you sleep a few minutes longer.

Your stylish work week jewelry has been replaced by, yup, nothing, after nearly getting a hoop ripped out of your ear (or nose ring yanked from your nose. Yup, that happened) while nursing because you forgot to take them off when you got home that night. 

Your stylish work week clothes have been replaced with whatever the hell will fit and is sort of clean (read: doesn’t smell like baby pee, poop, or puke). 

You worry about changing into your PJs on Friday night for fear you won’t get out of them again until Monday morning.  

You eyeball your breast pump with disdain on Monday morning, as if saying to your nemesis, “we meet again”. 

Post-vaccination daze

Post-vaccination daze

Kisses!

Kisses!

Post-nursing coma

Post-nursing coma

You can’t keep a thought in your…...what was I saying? 

You’ve never showered so quickly, or felt so guilty about it, in your life. 

A long, hot, burn-a-layer-of-skin-off shower with hair wash and shave feels like a blissful week of vacation. 

Your hair has gotten so ridiculously long because you can’t make time to go to the salon, don’t actually want to pay that kind of money to rush through it, and you feel guilty about being gone that you’ve actually looked at your perpetual ponytail and a pair of shears and contemplated the possibilities. What? It will grow back. 

You fantasize about a mani/pedi.

While hoping your baby will go down quickly you fantasize about what you’ll do in those recaptured minutes - sleep, oh no, do the dishes, oh no, laundry (ah… clean sheets), oh no, wait, definitely cut your toenails.  

You try to figure out how to look sexy with one pit shaved and your boobs leaking. Don’t ask about the legs. 

You try to figure out how to speed nurse in the car so you can have a glass of wine in the restaurant without dirty looks. 

You’ve pumped anyplace and everyplace - office, car, sitting on the toilet, hunched over a sink, etc.

You’d do it all over again in less than a heartbeat. 

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