Off Days

Not only was I off work on Thursday, I was just plain off.

Nothing in particular went "wrong". Reagan was more fussy than usual, but nothing I couldn't handle. I sorted the laundry, ran it all through the washer and dryer, and even managed to put it all away. I cooked the meal that was delivered to us and it was good. I got a nap in the morning.

When Reagan was born my mom came and stayed with us for several days. Brian didn't go to work that whole first week at home. Reagan and I were literally surrounded by helping hands. Of course my mom went back home. Brian went back to work and I remember the panic that drifted in and out of my body. Success for that first week of just the two of us meant we made it through those 9 hours alive. Brian would come home and both his girls would be crying...but we were alive and that was a victory.

Up until Reagan was born, I always thought I needed to accomplish something spectacular or really work my tail off to consider my day a success. If I got the whole house cleaned and made a really good meal for Hubby, that was a success. If I got tons done at work and Mr. Bossman was impressed, that was a success. Merely doing laundry and cooking a ready-made meal just didn't seem to qualify. But then I had one of those Oprah-ah-ha moments where I realized that my success is not measured in dishes, loads laundered, bathrooms cleaned, or documents typed. My success is now measured in little smiles and giggles and laughs and coos. And the only thing I need to be happy and fulfilled is when I sing to my daughter, she spits out her pacifier and smiles at me.

I changed my mind; maybe yesterday was the best day I had all week.