1) At the risk of sounding overly dramatic: I have a bi-polar relationship with the Internet.
Most days I'm completely energized and inspired by all the beauty and talent. Then, ten seconds later I'm feeling overwhelmed and drowned by the pressures of unachievable perfection. It just seems sometimes like no matter how talented, interesting, original, etc. you are, there will always be someone, somewhere doing it better and blogging about it. With gorgeous photos.
Sigh. Oh, Internet you are so pretty and fun but sometimes you make me feel like I'm in high school again suffering through the latest copy of Seventeen magazine, promising myself that this month I'll adhere to the "apple and half a bagel" breakfast diet so I can be skinny, happy and popular.
2) Sometimes I have to admire my own restraint.
I'm still pumping twice a day to keep the kid in fresh milk and just now, while talking to a co-worker, I managed to prevent myself from saying: "Can you hold that thought? I have to go and tap a boob."
I think I get bonus points for coming up with an expression for pumping that fully captures a Canadian vibe by subtly referencing our proud maple syrup tradition.
3) Having a very "I don't feel old but apparently the world is trying to tell me I am" moment.
There was a very pregnant young woman on the bus this morning having a sweet young conversation with a boy she knew (old school friend maybe, definitely not the baby-daddy). He was asking about how it felt when the baby was moving and sounded genuinely impressed with the ultrasound photo she showed him. He teased her about being old now that she was 20 she'd be getting grey hair. She told him that her mother didn't have grey hair yet at the ripe old age of 38 (!!!!!!!!!!!).
My poor husband is (a young! spry! virile!) 38. I feel bad for making him read this. I can only pray that I do a decent enough job of raising my kid that she won't make me a Grandparent by the time I'm that age. Sure she'll only be 6 but with all this news of freakishly early puberty, it could be logistically possible.
If you can't tell, I like to keep my standards for successful parenting low. I enjoy being an over-achiever.