Is it possible that I was carrying all this today? It seems not, and yet this is the pile of crap I dumped at the top of the stairs when I finally made it home today at 8pm. Sure, I'd left work at 4pm, hung out at my mom's for an hour, gone to Weight Watchers, then gone out to dinner at a lovely restaurant called Woodhouse Fish Company. Meaning, it wasn't all work from 9am to 8pm. But there was an aspect of working-mom-ness to the whole day that was definitely reflected in the amount of STUFF I had to carry home by the end of the day. In this pile of crap, you'll find my wallet, which I lost not once, but twice, in the last 36 hours. In this pile of crap, you'll find not one, but two refrigerated cooler bags filled with not one, but two blue ice packets. In this pile of crap, you'll find not one, but two types of baby bottles, some empty and some full. Along with a laptop. And a water bottle. And a breast pump. With all its accompanying paraphernalia. Also, a credit card floating around unaccounted for. And a pay stub. And—what's that I hear? an MP3 ringtone! (the Pogues' "If I Should Fall From Grace With God" so it could be anyone)—somewhere deep in a crevice, unobtainable, especially when ringing, a cell phone. And a Baby Bjorn. And one sweatshirt that doesn't work well for breastfeeding, plus another that works better. You'll even find a tote bag filled with other tote bags. And that's just the big stuff.
What you won't find is a baby. That eighteen-pounder is in my other hand.
Like I said, working-mom-ness. Not an elegant word, which makes it all the more appropriate.