Time

On Thursday I called the Dr. at 11:30am because Thomas was still spitting up a lot and not producing anything to give me reason to believe he was digesting anything. (Subtlety is not my gift....the kid hadn't pooped in like 3 days.) The nurse sounded as concerned as I was (not comforting) and said we should come in. They had an appointment at 2:40. Could I make that?

3 hours and 10 minutes.....I quickly surveyed my circumstances, Thomas had been asleep for a long time and I knew he'd wake up any minute. I hadn't showered or done my hair. The carseat base needed to be installed in my car, I'd have to get both of us ready to leave the house, install the carseat base, feed him - twice probably - and change his diaper at least 3 times. 3 hours and 10 minutes......"Sure. I'll be there." I answered. I know, sometimes I amaze even myself with my ambition.

3 hours and 10 minutes really isn't very long....it used to be long.

That's like 6 episodes of a tv show. It's long enough to cook a dinner that is frozen solid. It's enough time to pick a movie and go see it (even if it's Lord of the Rings). It's long enough to read a LOT of book. Long enough to attend 3 college courses (with bathroom breaks!) It's 3 loads of laundry, 3 loads of dishes (with drying and putting away time), it's 4 trips downtown. It's long enough to go grocery shopping, AND Costco and put away the goods AND make the list for next time. It's long enough to plan a party, ask people to come over and have the house presentable for company. It's more than long enough to plan and prepare dinner.

Now 3 hours and 10 minutes is exactly long enough to complete only the most necessary tasks to get our butts out the door. Nothing more. Doing my hair is optional and getting dressed happens in at least 3 different sessions.

3 hours and 10 minutes is also the amount of time I spend sleeping before waking up to the cry of my sweet sweet child.

It used to be that a week was just 5 days of work and 1 very short weekend.

Now a week (until the next Dr.'s appointment where they tell me that he's fine) is eternal. It's 9,000 feedings, 12 million empty diapers, and 2500 crying sessions.  It's 21 outfits (because I refuse to let him soil more than 3 per day...) 4 baths and 6 sleepless nights. It's 7 whole days of wondering if everything is OK. It's 168 hours of not knowing if I'm doing OK and 10,080 agonizing minutes of trying to decide if his cheeks are fuller or that fat roll on his thighs was there yesterday.

I knew a baby would change everything....but I didn't know that even the value of a minute would never be the same.