Run away from the groundhog

Today my family was getting together for lunch to celebrate my mum's birthday (early next week) and belated celebrate The Husband's birthday (earlier this month). The plan was to meet at their house at 12, for lunch at 1.

The Bubby gave us an amazing nights sleep (feeding at 11:30, 4am and 8:30) and The Toddler woke at 8:30 as well. I was hoping to slam a feed in to The Bubby and then head out with The Toddler to get mums gift.

But it just didn't happen.

Feeding took close to 45 minutes (she gets cosy between feeds and needs a burp sometimes to get her appetite back), then it took me longer than I expected to eat my bowl of cereal and get dressed (The Toddler slows things down a little).

Once 90 minutes had passed, I realised I wouldn't be able to get out to the shops and back in time, so we planned for The Husband and The Bubby to come as well (so I could feed her if needed). But then The Husband also needed to have his breakfast and shower, and I needed to work out how to use the Ergo if I was taking her to the shops.

And then it was 11am and we still hadn't left.

And I had to work hard to not get too upset about the fact that we'd somehow fiddle fart arsed away 2.5 hours. And seemingly I wasn't too successful, as my dad picked up on it straight away.

I don't feel anywhere near as tired as I did when The Toddler was The Baby. Everything seems to be that much easier this time around - changing nappies used to take five minutes (I don't know how!) but it's a breeze. Baby feeds more efficiently and I'm in the swing of wrapping her and she settles quickly.

But I've only had one outing since arriving home, and that was to buy dog crates to try to stop our dogs from fighting and to do the groceries. Which left me with an aching pelvis all day.

And The Husband gets to go out and run and swim and ride, get exercise and do things in his own time.

There's no reason he can't - he's on leave too, he is doing so much with The Toddler, he has only just been given the all clear to exercise and it makes him (and therefore me!) feel better, and all he'd be doing otherwise is sitting around at home like me.

But it still grinds that my days are dictated in three hourly chunks, where I should feel 'thankful' that I 'got' to go out and do a chore. And that my next outing is similar (pick up my serviced watch / get winter clothes for baby / finally get mums birthday present).

I'm wondering if this is the hormones...