Aah, to return to the blogging realm. This used to be my one and only safe place, my haven, my respite from any and all difficulty that I was facing. Words have always been an outlet of expression for me - thoughts and feelings ballooning in the mind as they often do. Now, I find myself scrounging for spare time in between laundry, dishes, nap times and children crying listlessly -either in desperate pleas of "Moooooommy" or "Waaaaaaah!" they still resonate with one or all of the following messages:
1. You're starving me. I'm hungry.
2. I'm dirty. Clean me. Why haven't you cleaned me?
3. I'm tired; but will protest violently if you suggest quiet time or lie me down for a nap.
4. You're not looking at me. Entertain me.
5. You're still not looking at me.
I'm a new mom! Perhaps you can tell. Perhaps while seeing me, even without one of my two (two - such a small number for how much work they are!) children, you will be able to tell this fact. New moms are everywhere. Can you see it in the bags under our eyes, as we go about our day functioning on a mere handful hours sleep? Can you smell it on our clothes - in either fashionable garb in attempts to still be such or sweatpants in a sort of ragged defeat - the faint smell of sour milk, diapers, ointment? Can you feel it in our touch, as we constantly pat, tap and console inanimate objects as though we are always hearing faint wailing of children? Can you hear it in the desperate way we converse with another human being - wanting so badly to just be able to talk to some other grown human who has more coming out of their mouth than spit up or whining? We are new moms. It is our joy, it is our woe.
The words remain and plague me; tossing about my head like so much tumbling laundry that I should be attending to even now. Even now, as I dart back and forth from the computer to my son's bedroom where he naps restlessly, wrapping and calming him with such delicate hands one might think I was disarming a bomb.... Even now, hollering out to the pup who is locked in his crate (the only place I can keep him where my socks and shoes and chairs and scraps of coloring pages and food and grocery bags and children's toys and anything but his designated chew toys are safe from his incessant chewing) to "Hush!" and then back to Remington's crib fervently gasping, "Hush!" oh, wait, whoops, wrong phrase, wrong baby... Even now, feeling guilt as the clock tick tick ticks more and more minutes still of my daughter glued to the iPad when I should be stimulating her in some other, productive, mindful way.... Even through that all here I sit, aside me is my mug of London Fog tea (my secret indulgence) once steaming hot and now gone tepid, tapping away endlessly at the keyboard.
Mothers naturally feel enormous amounts of inadequacy. Whether we are comparing ourselves to our surrounding friends, the endless chorus of voices on Facebook, the tiring to-do lists of home life, the relentless urge to Pin every last perfectly poised craft with finesse and ease - we take far too much upon ourselves. And when we are stretched to our very last we are horrified to find that we, like the common elastic band, snap. Either we break in two, strung out beyond repair or we recoil, hurting those in our wake.
Which is why I believe that whatever your indulgence is, whatever your 'me' time is where you steal away to enjoy your other identity besides the all consuming title of MOM - don't let it slip away. You are mother first, yes, then wife/partner and friend and sister and a host of many other titles and responsibilities, but you are also you. You need to remember her, whoever she is and allow her a little time in the spotlight else she turn angry and bitter and rear her jealous head. (Poor Dallin will attest to that!) Days when the silliest of slights causes a Medusa-like demon to rise up and take our poor bodies host to her indignation.
This is normal. Right? Right. Yes, yes it is. Normal....
The truth that I have come to learn is that enduring motherhood is a trying and enlightening experience that never ends. We may yearn for the days when the kids are at school, napping, on a play date, gone to their grandparents for the weekend or whatever it may be - but motherhood never really ends. We will still be tidying their toys, thinking of them, worrying about them, gazing at their pictures and smiling, missing them in some way even while at the same time celebrating their absence. We are mothers now and forever. That is beautiful and suffocating at the same time. Revel in that. Accept it.
There is something horribly perfect about another human being needing you so literally to survive. Literally. Not like, "OMG, you literally scared me to death!" More as in literally this humans' life would cease to exist without its mother. This truth is beautiful in its' duality - it can both terrify yet calm you, enlighten yet depress you, bolster yet dishearten you, suffocate yet free you. Moms - what a job we hold! What a task. What a goal that we hold in our arms each day and night, kissing its boo boos, calming its fears, ceasing its tears, enduring its whines, enjoying its bright moments. The importance of this job would seem, to most, unparalleled in its importance. We should be proud and hold our heads high at the job we set out to do, every non-ending second of every non-ending minute of our lives.
If you believe that truth, then why NOT give you some time to be you? Sure, there will always be a long list of things to do for your family, but that list will always BE, will it not? So let it sit, trust me, it's not going anywhere. You're children will not blame you for 30 minutes away from them (or, if they do, they'll most likely forget... Celebrate the fickle nature of children for once!) and you will feel better for it. Do something for HER. Not something for others, as we so selflessly do time and time again. Something truly for HER. Let her come out. Let her hair hang down. Dance with her. Sing with her. Craft with her. Snack with her. Let her lead. She'll be glad you did.
And I'll continue to write with her.
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