I’m not talking about Disneyworld. I’m not talking about Willy Wonka. No, after my recent giving-birth experience I am talking about a wonderful place called the hospital. And I know that I’m not alone.

My experience didn’t actually start ideally if you considered the “start” dreading the 5 am wake-up that I had to make to get to the hospital for my 7:30 operation. I had a bad day that last day – that is a whole ‘nother blog entry…but resolved to go to bed early to get my last good night of sleep prior to new baby. And, the phone rang at 10:40 pm. Who would be calling me so late? Why, it was the hospital. Calling to say…we wanted to remind you of your C-section tomorrow at 7:30.

THANK YOU! Thank you for reminding me. Gosh darn it, I was sitting out here at 10:40 at night on my front porch, drinking a 40 of malt liquor, contemplating my giant belly and wondering about next steps – THANK GOODNESS you reminded me I had to be at the hospital tomorrow am as it totally slipped my mind. Since you’ve called me at 10:40, assuming I’d forgotten, I now have plenty of time to arrange childcare for my kids.

So after that auspicious start, I headed in, in the AM – having gotten no sleep (but of course I had childcare, though that had been a bit dicey for the week prior – our back up plan for if the baby came early was “Hopefully the baby won’t come early”). The operation was what it was, gorgeous baby born healthy, came out with her fist in the air in true Jersey-girl style…but then the nice part of the hospital began.

Here, in no particular order, is what is awesome about the hospital.

1. I couldn’t do ANYTHING. I mean, for the first day, I literally couldn’t do anything due to horrid, horrid nausea…but after that, I wasn’t allowed to do anything for 5 days but lie in my bed, read, watch tv, hold my baby, and get scolded not to do anything. I checked my I-phone for email but knew that doing work would only open a dark door of having clients expect me to work ON the operating table so I just tuned it all out in a way that I normally cannot, even if I tell myself to, even if I’m on vacation. One day, when the kids were out and about, my husband came and we watched a dumb movie in the afternoon, holding the baby, and it was quiet and no one was yelling at us to do this or that and I didn’t feel that I needed to multi-task as I do at home. Just sat around and watched George Clooney.

2. My children were in good hands. They came to visit, they hugged me, they asked for cookies. I gave them cookies because hey, I was in the hospital, why fight about cookies? So it was all EASY. I didn’t have to make up rules or enforce rules or find things for them to do. I gave them hugs and cookies. And they were watched by their grandparents while I lay around, holding the baby, doing nothing.

3. I could hold my baby, hug my baby, and then if I wanted to sleep a, the baby was usually asleep or b, I could call a WELL TRAINED nurse and say take my baby to the nursery. And then I could lie around and do nothing.

4. Everyone cared about ME. They asked how I was doing and cared about the answer – unlike at home where nominally, people care about me in that if I wasn’t there they’d arguably have to cook, clean, etc for themselves (the “etc” is EVERY SINGLE THING) but at the hospital it was about me.

5. Food was given to me. It wasn’t awesome, but I didn’t have to think about it or plan 4 additional meals for everyone else in my family. The last night, our hospital even did this awesome dinner for us – again, not delicious, but super thoughtful.

So I was in pretty bad pain, wearing a horrid gown, getting checked every few hours for blood pressure, temperature, etc – and I still, no joke, think it was better than my vacation to the beach. There’s the happy glow of anticipation of this new baby; there’s the drugs, of course. But I still can’t precisely put my finger on how I can replicate this experience other than having another baby which my husband has assured me is NOT happening.

Why can’t I just turn it all off at home for a day to replicate this? Guilt. Why can’t I relax on vacation and just enjoy that? Responsibilities to clients and kids chasing me around. All I’m saying is that I’m glad I had 5 sweet days at Overlook, and my next business venture may be to launch a hospital-type day spa for moms…responsible caregivers, a place to escape where you are NOT ALLOWED TO WORK…operations not necessary.

My recent crazy life has prompted me to consider what shortcuts are acceptable and what will drive me to turning into the crazy looking lady on the street who will definitely own 100 cats one day.

Case in point: Do I have to wash all my clothes every time I wear them has turned into how dirty do the kids clothes need to be before THEY get washed? And that degenerated into if it’s her favorite nightie, and she fights when it goes in the wash, and she doesn’t actually play in the mud or sweat in it, why must a 5 year old’s fancy nancy sweetness get washed any more than once a week (or month). No, seriously, I do wash it more than once a month. But not her sheets. They’re on a top bunk, impossible to make–and really, she doesn’t sweat at night.

Ok, next shortcut–which I have to be honest is NOT just me–showers. I remember reading, prior to having kids, notes from folks with a new baby saying they didn’t even have time to shower. PREPOSTEROUS. Right, but now I’m in the position of thinking that possibly a shower isn’t necessary EVERY single day. Right? I don’t sweat that much. I saw an interview with Bianca Jaegger (or someone) who said she washed her hair once a month. GROSS. I am far, far better than that.

But really it’s the hair washing, and the drying, etc etc that are the shower issue. Shower is 5 minutes and could, really, be 2. But then the subsequent hair drying, and makeup-putting-onning…well, when the baby’s yelling and the snacks need packaging and the bus needs catching…all seems a bit overwhelming. And then the shortcuts lead down a dangerous path. The path of sweatpants, no makeup, looking like a hag and feeling even worse.

I’m not saying I have to be pageant worthy every day. But I feel like the day I don’t put on mascara, will lead quickly to the day I’m one step away from Jerry Springer’s audience. My aunt once told me never to lead the house without lipstick – I feel like I’m at least giving it the old college try by slapping on some Burt’s Bees balm with color in it. A little care goes a long way.

So, shortcuts. It’s tough to draw the line. Sometimes it’s best to see the problems illustrated by someone else. As in my husband. Who didn’t shower one day and compensated by an extra spray of cologne. For GOD’s sake…he claims one spray, I’m unconvinced – because the facts are these. He was holding the baby. He left the house, handing over the baby – whose sweet little hormone-free self sucks in all smells. The baby smelled like a cross between The Situation (Jersey Shore) and a bar (also at the Jersey Shore) and I quickly determined that should our shortcuts lead us to a place where our sweet baby became one with the scourge of the planet…it was time to pull it all together.

Shortcuts. Watch out. They can lead to your ruin.

Infrequent blog readers may have been confused by the long absence and time between posts–loyal blog readers (my mom) know that I’ve been a bit extra-busy these days because we have a new baby at our house. So our normal level of insanity has been heightened – I am balancing now the three “big girls” with an infant who turns 4 weeks old tomorrow.

I’ve been coasting along the surface of trying to get everything done WHILE getting kids happily to school not dressed like ragamuffins and/or weirdos (only partially successful today as one kid was wearing some dress-up hat and another had toothpaste in her hair that I licked my fingers and tried to rub out as she ran towards the bus). I’m also balancing everyone telling me to take it easy AND feeding the baby at night – her preferred time for eating, nonstop – and, meanwhile, my husband’s at work and also claiming exhaustion. Because he’s up helping with the baby. No WAIT. That’s not why, it’s because he’s actively and efficiently drafting and monitoring at all times 4, count them, fantasy teams.

Aside: I got an article the other day about how folks can be hooked on electronics. Husband, on computer all day with Droid by side, typically comes home from work (driving his car with satellite radio and every conceivable sound upgrade) and gets right on my laptop WHILE tv watching AND Droid-ing. I said, that article is about you. He said, I am not addicted to electronics. I grabbed the baby and said, LIGHTENING IS GOING TO STRIKE YOU. His denial was based on the fact that he had gone outside. Once. That day.

Anyway, let’s talk fantasy teams. I need someone to figure out what to make for dinner at my house. I am flat out of ideas, my kids are happy to eat dino-shaped nuggets every day, I don’t think it’s good for them but more importantly fear that is what I’ll be serving at their weddings (by the way, new baby? Girl. We’ll be paying for FOUR weddings. Dino chicken might be the way to go). Totally sick of coming up with compelling meals; consider it a giant victory when a fruit OR veggie is ingested by any of the eaters. So, need a chef of some sort – but they have to creatively cater to picky appetites and 5 people who eat entirely different menus with no common ground. Fantasy player one.

I need someone who can clean my house. I got a cleaning lady at my mother and husband’s behest when I was pregnant and could no longer bend down to pick up the myriad of crap thrown all over, with wanton abandon, and which no one, NO ONE, but me saw. I got someone, who’s marginally ok. I mean, I think my bathrooms are a little cleaner. But she doesn’t do a deep clean and by that I mean, wipe the floor of juice and stuff. So she leaves and I look around and there’s cobwebs, sticky fingers, stained chairs etc. The other day, I paid one of the 5 year old twins (only fifty cents) to just wipe stuff while I sat on the couch and bossed her on what to wipe. This was a good solution EXCEPT now they all say “Will you pay me?” upon being asked to do anything more than simply breathe. It’s like they’ve unionized and are completely blind to the fine surroundings (juice stained as they may be) and meals (chicken dino) the management is providing. So put that on the fantasy team.

I need someone to pick up and drop off, obviously. I want to “be there” for my kids, but I am sick of the driving around. Maybe if I had a chauffeur, I could multi-task and work while being there. Add that one.

Need someone to do half my work (but not take half my pay–negligible, at best). There’s a lot of things I like in my work: examples…I’m running a meeting in California and went on a site visit which included visiting a number of wineries. I’m fine with that. I actually don’t mind some of the “boring parts” like updating spreadsheets. Copy, paste, spreadsheet done, task checked off, feeling of accomplishment. I dislike all the ongoing pieces, the constant open-ended, and the researching clients. Would like, therefore, on my fantasy team someone who can do the cr*p. My friend told me today that when her babysitter was over (who happens to be her cousin) and the baby was asleep, she had the babysitter photocopy. She felt bad, but someone had to do it. Again, I’m venturing to guess the babysitter/cousin still had that satisfying feeling of accomplishment!

Actually, what I could use is someone to type. I could get a lot more done if I wasn’t forced to do it all with one hand, while the other holds the baby who loves to cuddle and finds her chair, swing, exercise mat and all other such items “hate-able” in the words of her older sister. I have been sending all e-mails without regard for capitalization since I can’t shift and type with one hand so if I had a typer, on call, I could run around merrily dictating all my work, to-do’s, blogs, etc. Add Typist who works for FREE to the fantasy team.

Need a grocery store shopper. I know, there’s Peapod and other delivery services. First of all I never have my act together early enough to think of needing groceries one day ahead. And it’s too hard to surf through the internet. No, far far more efficient is daily, sometimes TWICE daily, trips to the store to get orange juice (do your kids drink an orchard a day? HOW can that much orange juice go into a 35 pound person??) And when I get the juice home guess what, someone finished the milk (how? They barely drink it when I’m around). We seem to be constantly out of flavor blasted goldfish (confession: my fault. I am currently obsessed with flavor blasted goldfish). There’s nowhere to put the food but no food in the house to eat. Except Dino chicken. Bought in bulk.

Hoping for a gardner. Wouldn’t mind someone pitching in to maintain some of the relationships I don’t have time for, but would like to come back to. The list goes on and on. Every mother has a fantasy team they are longing for, no doubt.

As it is, I’m continuing to keep balls in the air only by writing down each and everything I have to do inclusive of “Wake Up” so I can proudly check off something each day that is accomplished. I’m multi-tasking away (conference calling and nursing – think twice before you dial me up!) And I keep thinking “If I can only complete this to do list today tomorrow will be easier”. I try not to look at the list for the next day! Why is it that I’m only happy in the crazy?