Funny thing about life, you tend to live it in certain increments of time depending on what your situation is. Always thinking, when I get past this certain time, then the rest of my life will start. When I was in college I lived by the semester. You plug along studying your tush off, partying hard, all the while just trying to make it to the next semester. Each semester you live through puts you closer to graduation day. When I was engaged the looming date I lived for was the wedding day. Life as I knew it would change as soon as February 21st, 2004 had come and gone. Then the rest of my life would start. Once we started trying to have a baby, I started living month to month. Each month was divided into a set calendar by mother nature when certain things would take place. Often when I was scheduling things I would figure out the possibilities of whether or not I could be pregnant for said event and how far along I would be. Once I got pregnant there were two big timetables at play. The trimesters and the due date. Some doctor somewhere took the liberty of setting up a schedule that you are forced to be on that revolves around the growing baby. When I was pregnant I would eagerly look at how she was changing each week, and wait with much anticipation for every doctor's appointment. Then of course at the same time you are living for that magic day when your baby arrives. Only 4% of women deliver on their actual due date, but who cares. Having that date gives you a much needed goal. It lets you look at the calendar and say "my life will change forever on this day." Needless to say usually when that day rolls around you have a few more to go before the bundle of joy actually gets here and the life changing really commences. Your due date turns out to be less of a magic day and more of a cruel reminder to a very pregnant woman that she is overdue.
These days I live in three hour increments. For some reason the great higher power has programmed infants to work like little egg timers, set to go off every three hours. It is so strange, but I can practically set my clock by my little egg timer. She lives by the three hour rule. It is like there is an alarm that goes off in her brain and she starts fussing at every three hours like clockwork to eat. After she gets filled up, she hangs out for a bit, then back to sleep. And it is this same thing every three hours from about 6 am to 11 pm. During those nighttime hours she will sometimes go a little longer than three hours, but often it is as if someone has wound her clock and she sticks to the 3 hour rule. I spend half my day counting out the next three hours so I can figure out how in the heck I am going to get things done. Three hours seems like a long time when you are taking a car ride or watching a movie. However, when you are trying to wrangle an ornery infant and keep her happy, three hours goes by in the wink of an eye. I swear I get up at 6, feed Alice and change her diaper, watch one DVR'd episode of Sex and the City and it is 9 and time to feed her again. If you don't stick to the schedule it angers her highness greatly. When I have tried to push her a little past, she has certainly voiced her disdain to being made to wait. Yesterday, when trying to plan for my shower, I was literally counting on my fingers to figure out which three hour period would be most conducive to showering and actually getting to dry my hair and put on deodorant. All without having to do a feeding somewhere in the middle. Funny how life changes. In my previous life as an office manager at a medical office, I lived for the weekend. These days Fridays are basically the same as Tuesdays, which has taken some getting used to. No longer do I dread Sunday evening because I have to get up and go to work the next day. My job is sitting on couch in her boppy pillow staring at me on Sunday evenings, and I have to rise at the crack of dawn no matter the day. Fortunately while the pay is a little shoddy, the benefits are awesome.
So i will happily continue living my life three hours at a time until my egg timer tells me it is time to go more. Gosh, what in the world would I do with 4 whole hours between feedings? I guess that gives me a new day to live for.