Home Days

Scout and I spend a lot of time at home. So. Much. Time. At. Home. It’s logical to assume we both occasionally go stir crazy. Cabin fever is almost a constant state of being for the two of us. Daddy gets to go to work, to the gym, to the store… Mommy and Scout are very much confined to this space until she’s easier to manage outside of the house. But it makes us both moody monsters.

Yesterday, Scout wasn’t feeling the happiness. She was bored looking at me all day. Again. She was bored with her play pad, bored with my breasts, bored with her bouncy chair, bored, bored, bored. And any time I tried to do anything remotely interesting with her, this is the response I received:

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That is Scout’s official “fuck you” face. And when I woke up this morning, I was in a similar state.

The news this morning was littered with International Women’s Day stuff, women I’m friends with were participating in a bunch of things for it – and I was stuck at home with a little 10-week old peanut. There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be at home with, but I was feeling defeated as a woman. My mind raced with memories of driving to the beach solo to enjoy the sun, or grabbing my camera and simply heading off on an adventure to wherever my vehicle would take me. I thought about the hours I’d spend in craft stores, or visiting new yarn shops regardless of their distance from home. I remember so many times grabbing a PB&J sandwich, hitting the road, yarn shop crawling for a whole day, then head home tired and poorer after spending money I didn’t really have on fresh fibers.

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I don’t mind at all hanging with this gorgeous lady. I just wish she was a tad older so we could go places without me having to worry about my boobs leaking. Or her being too uncomfortable in her car seat for hours on end.

Next week I intend to put in place a calendar where 2-3 days a week we have scheduled adventure days. I have to remind myself there’s no reason she can’t come with me. If I have to breast feed in public, then so be it. If some killjoy comes up to me and tells me I’m making them uncomfortable, I’ll gladly disengage Scout from my nipple and squirt the bastard in the eyeball (I can actually get some pretty good power behind a milk squirt – I’ve been practicing in the shower).

I have to remind myself there’s no reason at all Scout can’t start to share adventures with Mommy. Maybe I can even find little towns not too far away that offer antiquing and yarn and little cafes! Operation Mommy & Scout Adventure is totally happening!

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