I had my first post-Finn-shoot last week. I was an idiot... we couldn't make it work on a Saturday, so we shot for a Tuesday morning. The girls were at school... I had 2 and a half hours, and Finn would sleep-- he always sleeps... of course he'd sleep.
I'd be shaking my head if I were you too. She knew I'd have my baby, and she knew I had a timeline, but she probably figured I knew I could get it done in that time.... Since I told her I could. But Finn was awake and she lived farther than I thought and when all was said and done, I was racing out the door with my arms loaded with all of my gear, and baby poop on my shirt, running 20 minutes late for kinder pick up.
I felt, very literally, spread too thin. Like a skimpy layer of honey on a peanut butter sandwich so you're not even sure it's there. Especially when you've got natural peanut butter (doesn't have to do with analogy.) I felt like a bad photographer, and a bad mom. Throwing my hungry newborn in the car who'd just been calmed for the past 2 hours by a sweet stranger to pick up my 5 year old who'd been waiting in the office like a trouble-maker because of her ever-delayed mom.
Lesson learned. I thought I was ready... but perhaps for Saturdays only-- when I've got Ross to take care of EVERYTHING else.
Did I mention he's home? What would I do without him? I think single-moms deserve awards. The kind that are recognized by the president or something.