On Being Present
You can't multi-task motherhood. That's one of the things I'm learning. I mean, I joke around that daycare is outsourced parenting (and frankly, that's really only half-joking, as my kid spends more time with his teachers than he ever has with me since my maternity leave ended). But daycare allows you this false sense of what it is to spend time with your child. Being at home with them isn't enough. When you're home with them, there's still dinner to make, laundry to do, bills to pay, and sometimes, as I sheepishly admit, TV you want to watch.
All that's fine when you have an infant. Wear him in a sling while you do laundry. Cuddle him on your lap while you watch TV. Coo at him in his swing from the kitchen while you make dinner. Then toddlerdom hits and it's game over.
So I'm trying to be present in the moment now. Sure, there are still chores to do, but I'm trying to save the ones that can wait until after Rolo has gone to bed, even if that means a later bedtime for myself. Because kids know. Sometimes we'll be reading a book for the 11th time and my eyes will drift over to the television, or a magazine and I answer "Uh-huh" to his questions one too many times. And Rolo will put his hands on either side of my face, look me square in the eyes and say quietly "Mama. Mama." His meaning is clear:
I can tell you're not really here, Mama, and I need you to be here.I remind myself constantly of what has become my mantra:
he'll never be this little again, or need you this much. And that will always be true. When he's a teenager and barely acknowledging my existence I know I'll look back on these times I tried to watch an episode of
House Hunters while playing with him and wonder why I was such a fool.
Labels: On, parenting, Rolo
On Being a Mother
I've been putting off a overall post on this topic forever now, because there is so much I want to say but I'm not sure how. So I've kept rolling certain ideas around in my head and never really putting pen to paper, so to speak. Motherhood is a very individual experience, of course, but I do think there are some universal themes. I don't expect this post will be as all-emcompassing as I had hoped, but here goes...
The thing is, if people knew, really
knew how hard being a parent is, I'm convinced no one would ever do it. It's one of those things you can't really know in advance. I thought I did. I never had fluffy visions of baby smell and baby giggles. I knew it would be hard work, but I didn't really
know. Fortunately, by the time you really
know how hard it is, you also know a little, tiny person, a little tiny person you're totally in love with, and so, you wouldn't undo anything, even if you could.
From the second Rolo came into this world I had an overwhelming amount of love for him. I knew he was mine, my responsibility, a part of me. Sort of like a mama bear, I knew I would protect him no matter what. These parts of being a mother were automatic.
Other parts weren't. The actual role of being a mother hit me like a two ton truck. It took some getting used to. The change in lifestyle. The raw emotion. The physical toll. For weeks, I would spontaneously cry for no reason. I wasn't necessarily sad, although sometimes I was, I was just overcome with emotion. I couldn't watch anything upsetting on TV. I had moments when I numbly asked myself "What have you done?" I was someone's mother. Who let that happen? You need a license to marry someone, to drive a car, run a business, but no qualifications at all to have a child.
I've said before on this blog that I feel like there are multiple versions of myself (please hold all schizophrenic jokes to the end, thank you) and they don't always go hand-in-hand. It's funny how you can be two things at the same time; how you can know, somewhere in your heart of hearts, that you're a good mother, that you're doing a good job and how you can also feel like you have no idea what you're doing.
One aspect of being a mother that I always suspected was there is the isolation. Feeling things but not being able to talk to anyone about them. A good friend of mine had kids before I did and for years when you asked her about the kids or about parenting, the answer was always, "Fine, everything's fine. Nothing to see here!" Now when I recount some bit of awfulness that is parenting, she sighs and tells me she knows just how I feel.
Well, why the hell didn't you warn me it was going to be like this?? But the truth is if she had told me I wouldn't have understood at the time. And more importantly, she couldn't risk my knowing. The fact of the matter is there are times when you want nothing more than your old life back but you can't say that out loud. There is a secret code among women that you don't discuss the dark side of parenting with anyone unless they are in your inner circle and also have children. And then, still only rarely.
Does all of this make me sound like some sort of postpartum depression poster child? Well, I'm not, but that's why people don't talk it very much.
The reality is that whatever dark moments there are, they never overshadow how great being a mother is. Yes, it's overwhelming sometimes, but it gets easier in ways. You adjust to the new life. It'll get harder in other ways. You see your baby "playing" with other kids at daycare, not capable of having hurt feelings. And in your mind, you fast forward 5 years and wonder if he'll make friends as easily then or if he'll be picked on or bullied. You panic slightly when you realize that you'll have to help him with that 5th grade science fair project and you hope your own reluctance to make new friends doesn't rub off on to him. That cheesy, crappy saying about parenthood really is true: it's like choosing to have your heart forever walk around outside your body.
Motherhood can round you out though; challenge you (in good ways). For me, it's been a blind leap of faith. I really didn't know what it was going to be like. I know I'm a good mom, but that I'm probably always going to wish I was better. Well, I hope I'm always going to
try to be better, too. He deserves that. When it's all said and done, it might not be pretty, but being his mother is pretty amazing. When it gets hard, I focus on the words of Fr. Pedro Arrupe, S.J, which hang in my kitchen:
Nothing is more practical than finding God,
that is, than falling in love
in a quite absolute, final way.
What you are in love with,
what seizes your imagination,
will affect everything.
It will decide what will get you
out of bed in the morning,
what you will do with your evenings,
how you spend your weekends,
what you read, who you know,
what breaks your heart,
and what amazes you with joy and gratitude.
Fall in love; stay in love,
and it will decide everything.Labels: On, parenting
On Being an Awesome Parent
This morning I allowed the baby to chew on a pair of my yoga pants for about 10 minutes simply because it allowed me to finish getting ready in peace
Labels: On
On Getting Older
Honestly, I've never really related to my age as a number. It still surprises me that I'm 32. Maybe that's because I never thought I'd get old. As in, I thought I'd die young. Is that morbid? Maybe, as a teenager I never thought I'd be around in my twenties, let alone my thirties. I don't know why I thought this, I just did. It didn't bother me much. Perhaps this is why I don't think about the future nearly as much as I should.
I still remember on the night before my 17th birthday, hearing the song "Jack and Diane", specifically the line "Hold onto 16 as long as you can/Changes come around real soon, make us women and men." And I just thought that was the most prophetic statement, like, ever.
Anyway, so this body of mine has always seemed young to me. I've never felt old. Sure, it's been almost a decade since I was able to party all night long--my body starts longing for sleep at about 10pm. Oh and my boobs have always (even before Rolo) been saggy. Other women, like my friend Christy, have nice, perky boobs. Me? Not so much ever. Are you blushing yet, Chris? Anyway, other than my saggy boobs and my early bedtimes, I've always felt young.
Until now. I had a delightful pregnancy, and a relatively easy labor and I thought I was home-free. But oh, no. That's when my body decided to start breaking down. First back problems, then feet problems, now knee problems. My body, once quite strong, now seems to be no match for carrying an infant and his gear everywhere. None of these problems on their own are very bad and frankly, I need to go to a doctor about some of them, but combined, they give the feeling of my body getting old. Giving out on me. Thirty two years of aging caught up with me all at once. I cannot even fathom getting pregnant again anytime soon. I don't think my back could handle it. Perhaps once I finally start exercising, maybe that will help.
And thirty-three is right around the corner...
Labels: On, winter of my discontent
On Becoming a Hippie
I think I'm becoming a hippie. Well, not really. But perhaps I'm more hippie-ish than before. I thought it started with all the toy recalls, but really, I guess it started before I had Rolo, when I decided to breastfeed. But the toy recalls got me reading about lead and BPA and all sorts of other crazy things. Now I'm buying Rolo all organic baby food and looking into making my own baby food. I'm looking into non-plastic sippy cups (I really should look into non-plastic or otherwise BPA-free bottles too, but I don't want to go overboard here). And I'm seriously considering cleaning the house with distilled white vinegar instead of my beloved assortment of Lysol products. And all my anti-bacterial hand and dish soaps? They'll be replaced with the regular pro-bacteria kind when they run out.
In the spring, I plan on starting to buy all my produce from the
Headhouse Square Farmer's Market. I've started buying organic produce in the regular grocery store for now.
Maybe all this isn't so surprising. In high school, I was sort of a hippie. I was all artistic and was part of an environmental group, in which we worked on preserving the ocean from contamination. Plus, I wore
china flats in high school with smiley faces and peace signs painted on them and if that doesn't scream hippie, I don't know what does.
I can't say that my household will ever be totally green. In fact, just yesterday I tossed glass bottles in the regular trash. But I am trying to reduce our exposure to toxins. Impossible to do entirely, but something is better than nothing.
I promise I'll get on that recycling thing too.
Labels: baby, hippie-dippy, On, Rolo
On Being Pregnant
I am tired.
I'm not as tired as I thought I would be by now, but waking up 5 times a night does take its toll. That I don't even get to bed until after midnight most nights, what with the unpacking and the Ikea runs, doesn't help.
Tomorrow I will be 38 weeks pregnant, which is full term. Technically, I still have two weeks to go, but really, it could be any time now. I haven't given this much real thought, as I've been distracted by the move. I don't know if this distraction is a good thing. On one hand, I'm not obsessing and freaking out about the thought of labor. On the other hand, I probably haven't mentally prepared myself for this at all. I still haven't really packed a hospital bag.
Being pregnant is totally different than I thought it would be. I expected a horrible pregnancy, one where I was sick and fatigued all the time. My mother was sick every day for nine months and I thought I'd be the same way. And because I never had the uncontrollable desire to procreate that so many women seem to be programmed with, I expected that I would resent being tired, fat and miserable.
With the exception of the CF thing, which really has nothing to do with pregnancy, I have been incredibly lucky. Being pregnant has...basically not affected me. Sure, the last few weeks have been somewhat uncomfortable, but generally speaking, the last nine months have passed with little effect. I can't say I've really basking in the joys of pregnancy. But I haven't minded it. In fact, it's been kind of nice. Like I have a little buddy that I carry around with me wherever I go. And the best thing about that buddy is that he/she doesn't cry, eat or poop yet.
I expect that labor will be some long, torturous experience, but who knows? My body might surprise me again. Certainly, no one has been more surprised than me that I seem to be suited to pregnancy.
A couple of things I've learned:
1. Maternity clothes. If you wouldn't wear it before you were pregnant, don't make yourself wear it now. I mean, you will have to succumb to the elastic waistband, the unlined pant and flowing shirts. But if you didn't wear pastel floral patterns with little bows all over before you were pregnant, don't do it now. Don't feel like you have to run out and stock up on maternity shirts as soon as you get a positive test result. Look around the stores you already shop in. Chances are, they have some empire waist tops and more generously cut shirts that will fit well into your second trimester. I found lots of non-maternity options at Banana Republic, Ann Taylor Loft and Macy's--some of which I still am wearing now. Also, even if you didn't do it before, there's nothing wrong with shopping at Target. In fact, just about all my real maternity clothes came from Target, Gap and Motherhood. There's no point in spending a fortune on maternity clothes, because the quality of your Diane von Furstenberg pants will be the same as the ones you get at Target.
2. Don't feel like you have to change your lifestyle just because you're pregnant. Of course, if your pregnancy is high-risk, you may have to take some extra precautions, but for the rest of you, just keep living your life. If you exercise, keep exercising. Listen to your body instead of listening to what they tell you not to do in the books. Don't push yourself too hard, but don't assume you can't do as much just because you're pregnant. Continue to go out with your friends. Go out for happy hour.
3. Speaking of the books, go ahead and read them. Then decide which parts seem to work for you. Don't take everything they tell you as gospel. Don't let the books make you paranoid.
4. Avoid pregnancy message boards.
5. If you aren't someone who enjoys having people touch your stomach, don't make your pregnancy the feature topic of every conversation. The more you talk about it, the more interest people will show, and the more likely they are to touch you. I've only had 2 people touch my stomach in the last nine months and fortunately for them, they happen to be two people I like. If you are some sort of freak who enjoys people touching you, don't insist that they touch your stomach. Freak.
6. Speaking of talking about it,
for God's sake, don't tell the whole world as soon as you get a double pink line on a stick. In the last couple of months I've had two women tell me they were pregnant, only to have to later tell me that they weren't. Miscarriages happen. A lot. Wait at least until you've heard a heartbeat.
7. Don't assume everyone wants to hear about your pregnancy 24/7. They don't.
8. Regarding work, aside from preparing your boss and/or anyone else who may be affected by your maternity leave, there's really no reason to talk about your pregnancy at work. I had one co-worker once who felt it was necessary to detail every pregnancy symptom she was having with me. So not necessary.
9. Do not move when you are 9 months pregnant.
10. I'm too tired to think of a 10th thing I've learned. I'm going to have some ice cream instead.
Labels: On, preggo
