Life with baby

Being home with the baby is so strange. When I was in the hospital, I couldn't wait to get home, even though all the books told me to take my time and stay as long as I could, because I would be longing for those catered meals soon. I knew that, but I also know my insurance policy makes me pay 20% of the bill, and I'd rather have a lower one, and I also know that my food is better, and that I like being home. I knew my husband would take care of me once he got to feeling better.

I'm still a little annoyed at the husband for being sick when we got home, even though he couldn't help it. It helps that he's as embarrassed as I am annoyed. I just gave birth and am walking around cleaning the house, and he's knocked out by a tummy ache? Ah well, at least he acknowledges that's stupid.

Anyway, being home with the baby is strange. It makes her existence more real to me, because she's in my space, not this unfamiliar place where strangers will come and whisk her away in the middle of the night to do lab work. Yesterday and today I pretty much just sat around staring at the baby, and it was great. I feel no need to do anything else.

On the one hand I know I should be cleaning, and cooking, and working, but on the other I should take a break, I mean if not now when? I made a point to get ahead on work so I could take time off once I had the baby, so why don't I take advantage of that? Instead I'm about to get off the computer, clean the house top to bottom because my husbands cousin is coming to visit, and then get to work. Something is wrong with me, because I just can't stop.