Nine days. That is the record stretch I just went for not leaving the house. I was gone for exactly 1 hour that whole time. Nine entire days. How truly incredibly sad. How did this tragedy happen you ask? Well, take three days a week watching an 8-month-old without a car seat on top of your own 4-month-old and those are automatically out for venturing. Two of those nightmare days I have a husband at work and in school from 5am until 11pm so I am too much of a shell by the end of the baby-sitting day to go anywhere with the baby, and too busy trying to recover the days after to leave the house then. That makes five. Toss in two bouts of illness on the weekend--first I thought Sam was getting sick, and then I was really sick, and before you know it, nine days have gone by. Daniel even does all the shopping on Saturdays because I've always hated doing it.
On the plus side, I've never had a bottle of foundation last so long. When you only put it on every nine days, it can really go forever!
Here is the problem with not leaving the house for nine days. Sometime around day 6 or 7, the four walls of your cage become your new best friends. I don't want to leave them, they love me. Some days they are the only thing that talks back to me. My house gets me. It forgives me for leaving clean clothes in the guest room piled on the bed until I outgrow them rather than fold them neatly. Around day 7 I turn into Patty Hearst. I love my captor and will do anything for it. I spend WAY more time with the sofa than my husband (not that that is exactly a new development post-baby), so of course it truly understands me and has my loyalty. This past stretch ended on day 10, when Daniel came home and offered to watch Sam while I went to the store or something. I looked at him like he was trying to physically hurt me and said "What is wrong with you? I can't leave!"
He looked right back at me, as if there was nothing wrong and said "Why not? Is the baby hungry and you have to feed her first?"
He just didn't get it. "No, the baby is not hungry. I just can't leave. It's not worth it to get in the car, drive somewhere, get out of the car, do something. Wear real pants. Oh man, makeup. It's over a hundred degrees out there! What is the point? I have to be back in an hour anyway. I think I'll just stay here." Suddenly, I started wondering exactly when I became agoraphobic, but there it was, I was afraid to leave.
"Honey, I think this means you really need to leave. You're making a permanent dent in this sofa cushion."
"Hey, don't you dare take this out on the cushion, it isn't the sofa's fault! I love that sofa! That is Sam's favorite spot for me to sit while she practices standing which she does for at least 5 hours a day. She will not freaking sit-down when you hold her anymore! She has to use her legs, she's advanced, Daniel! I can sit in that spot and hold her and still reach the Exersaucer when Addie is playing in it, and when Sam is on the floor it's the best spot to sit and watch her roll over without making my butt hurt on the floor, and it's my favorite spot to nurse and watch TV. I love that spot and are you calling me fat!!!!???"
After that little outburst he pretty much kicked me out the door. "At least go grocery shopping or something. See you later. We'll be fine."
So I went to the store against my will. I shopped and browsed and noticed just how chipped my pedicure had become for the first time in weeks. I wore real pants (well, okay, still maternity jeans because I will NOT buy jeans in my current size, but the point is they did not have a drawstring). I talked to a grown-up checker face-to-face and legitimately smiled when they asked me if I found everything all right. I listened to my radio station in the car and did not have to sing "C is for Cookie" to try to get someone else to calm down.
When I came home, I was in a good mood and not thinking at all about poop. I call that a major victory. I smiled and said to Daniel "you have to kick me out more often." He laughed and said he'd do his best.
My house was still there and welcomed me back. What a great house not to hold a grudge.
Now I have to go. I'm getting kicked out again to go to the grocery store. Thank heaven.
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