Decide on a delivery or takeout place for dinner. If I’m cooking, that’s a different story. But for the love of all things holy, PLEASE do not look to me if we’re dining out (but really in) — my mind turns into an infinite desert of nothingness. A spring with no water. An empty box.
Wake up to pump in the middle of the night. I keep trying and I keep failing so I’m done trying. Just this morning, I set my alarm for 3:15am and hit snooze roughly *checks notes* 17 times. I hate pumping so fucking much and am outraged as a 2026 second-time mom that no company has figured out how to drain me in three squeezes (a Dwight Schrute reference), so I’m taking a stand by continuing to lay down.
“Leave the dishes for later.” This isn’t about dishes; it’s about any and everything. Unfortunately for me, I am one of those people who is highly affected by my immediate surroundings and feel more stressed, more anxious, more out of my mind when the house is in disarray. This doesn’t mean that I don’t let it get to that point; I’m only human, after all. But even if the disarray is my own doing, my body and mind cannot relax until it’s dealt with.