We got out of bed at 3:00.
I did have success with the drive. I remember the drive home from hospital was crazy stressful - both the husband and I were hyper aware about everyone else on the road, every corner, every bump. I very nearly jumped out of the car at the traffic lights to look to make sure she was okay, but managed to resist. Comparatively, my drive was easy going... although I noticed I no longer had the need to try to beat my 7-minute record. Or 'win' at all the roundabouts. Or faff around with the
I did not have success with the stroller. I parked in a quiet part of the shopping centre carpark so that I could take my time to work out how to unfold the thing - I knew there was a high chance I'd get it wrong and then lose. my. shit.
But I guess the fact that I couldn't open the freaking thing AND I didn't totally crack it is a success in itself. Although I gotta admit, I don't like presenting myself as the frazzled woman who pulls in to a shopping centre, spends five minutes trying to unfold a pram, calls home to tell her husband "I'm. not. an. idiot. I. AM. pressing. the. GRAY. button." tries again for another five minutes, then drives back out of the carpark.
If I had not promised people that I would come in and see them, I'm pretty sure I would have experienced a pretty fantastic release of those post baby blues.
And I think they picked up pretty quickly that I was not cheery-chirpy, based on the jibing I got about my baby having a full vocab of swear words by the time she is one.
You'll be pleased to know I got 'taught' how to use the stroller that night, in a relatively unpatronising manner (there are three gray buttons on the stroller, but of course I can not for the life of me find the one that I was pressing to demonstrate to the husband), so I'll be trying to hit up the DFO later this week to expand my wardrobe of track pants and schleppy jumpers.
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