Recently a dear friend mentioned the fact that parents are always talking in "four part conversations." You start telling a story and baby spits up. You resume the story and baby drops his toy. You fumble around for the toy, as well your jumbled thoughts and mentally flail around trying to remember the timeline of your story. Your friend, who is also on high alert while her little one drags every single one of his worldly possessions onto the living room carpet to admire, has to think for a minute too. She HAS been paying attention, but the multitasking function needs a minute to kick in. You resume the conversation, with inevitable breaks on the horizon.
I also have a four part conversation with myself and my life activities. Working out? Yep, I did just bust out 10 sit ups and have to stop since Atticus is crying. I love my baby dearly, and I hate when he cries. And I also hate that he cries. Stopping my workout to crinkle his toy to make him smile is so worth the interruption.
So I abandon my "workout" for the time being and justify that I am participating in "life exercises" and start lugging Atticus around with me (buff arms here we come, carrying around a live 15lb weight! Although, my dominant right arm is getting much stronger, as I tend to carry him on my right hip. Dang. I thought spot reduction wasn't possible). I try squeezing in pushups on the kitchen counter in between washing dishes, or performing squats while I am drying my hair. Dedicated time for anything just doesn’t exist anymore.
The funny part about my mommy-sleep-dep-lobotomy, is my silence filler while I am trying to collect my thoughts. I literally say “la, la, la, la" or "I had a thought...." Thank goodness no one (at least criticize-y and out loud) has said anything.
