7 posts tagged “life”

Prior to becoming a mother I worked for a large telecommunications corporation securing easements and service agreements.  Yes, definitely as exciting as it sounds.  But, on the upside my performance was measurable.  Doing well = signed contracts = commission.  Hard work paid off quite literally.

As a graduate student, my work is also measurable.  There's that thesis in the not so distant future, papers and grades, as well as how well I "perform" in discussions. 

This week I've been thinking about how motherhood doesn't have the same sort of measurable results.  There are results, but not in accessible, black and white terms.  Yes, I had a hand in the fact that the baby is in the 95 percentile for weight and height, but so did genetics.  Yes, my three-year-old daughter can sing Old MacDonald in tune, as well as various Ingrid Michaelson songs, but is that necessarily impressive?  I have a vague notion that most of the time I'm doing fine with the motherhood gig, but where's the proof?  My mother-in-law, bless her heart, always tells me I'm doing a good job when she sees the girls, but since the kids are individuals, little people with souls of their own, I scarcely feel like I can take credit for their health. 

Quite frequently I feel like a hamster in an exercise wheel on auto-pilot, particularly during the weeks when I have a lot going on with school.  These are the weeks where my time is parceled out quite strictly, with the exception of taking care of the girls.  They take priority over everything else.  They ultimately dictate the ebb and flow, and like water, fill in the cracks of any spare spaces of time. So, obviously they are the most important responsibility or "project" I have simmering. And yet, the job comes without a performance review.

There are days of epic failure where I doubt my effectiveness as a mother.  I can only measure my ability sometimes by the number of tantrums, the lost battles over fruits and veggies, and the frequency and depth of how I lost my cool.  Those days I wonder what the hell I was thinking when I put those birth control pills on the shelf for a month or two.

But, I suppose, like any great love in life, we can't put numbers or measurables on them.  Just like the Mastercard ad campaign, it's just "priceless".  The good, the bad, they're all rapidly moving moments that we just do our best with. 

I had forgotten the intensity of mothering a new baby.  There are these chaotic moments when the baby is crying, I'm dying for a drink of water, the phone is ringing, my Pre-K-er needs help in the bathroom, and suddenly I realize the dryer has been full of clean (and now extremely wrinkly) clothes for three days.  It just seems like nothing gets done, despite all my best efforts to keep me and the other humans alive and well.  Plus, between me and my three-year-old the raw emotion quotient can skyrocket, particularly on days when my husband - the XY equalizer - is traveling for work. 

I have wisened up from when my older daughter was an infant though.  This go-around the daily shower, the occasional western bacon cheeseburger, and online retail therapy are utterly non-negotiable.  I know I need these things as sure as air, water, and diet coke.  But other decisions seem less clear and rather nebulous. If I get a two-hour child-free window on Saturday afternoon, how do I spend it?  By myself on a run or just browsing a bookstore?  With a girlfriend for mental therapy?  Or with my husband, who it seems, I have not had a complete conversation with for a few months? There is so much to do when I get my brief, psuedo release from motherhood.   

I've also been planning my graduate courseload this fall, and I'm torn.  There are classes I want to take, but when I sit down to arrange childcare I feel this twinge of sadness that I'll be away from the girls.  In trying to have my cake and eat it too, I'm finding myself emotionally split. 

My husband reminded me yesterday that one day our daughters will be older, and rolling their eyes when I try to tell them a story about Cinderella making blueberry pie, and wanting to be in contact with their peers 24/7 instead of me...and I will miss these days when they are small, sweet dictators who need so much all the time.  He is right, and when he mentioned this my eyes involuntarily tear-ed up.  It could have been my hormones, but deep down I think it's because as hard as it is right now, it's exactly where I want to be.

Surviving these days with...
my mother's hands-on support
my husband's emotional support
my friends offering an amalgum of humor, perspective, and yes, support
my breastpump
a case of dwindling diet coke
online retail therapy

Could use...
a little less spit-up
at least one more arm and hand
more sleep...in 4-5 hour blocks

Grateful for....
a quiet moment alone at my desk, on the internet, with a bag of m&m's that I'm not sharing with child or husband.

1) I feel like pregnancy has robbed me of my mind. I'm reduced to complaining about my kumquat-sized bladder, outgrowing maternity clothes, and how I'm eating everything in sight, then getting wicked heartburn.

2) Satsuma mandarins are local and in season and I'm consuming them at an alarming rate.  If Veruca Salt turned round and blue, it's only a matter of time before my skin becomes orange, and not from a spray-tan gone awry.

3) I see people running and I'm jealous.  This will be really funny when I actually do get to run in a few months and will be in complete and utter agony, hating every tortured moment as my lungs attempt respiration and my dormant muscles try to contract.

4) I have a Facebook stalker.  A woman whose name I vaguely recognize added me as a Friend.  After I looked at her profile I figured out I had gone to high school with her.  But, and I am quite certain about this, I've never in my life had a conversation with her or had friends in common.  So, I declined her request.  Then, a day later she tried to add me again. I don't know whether to decline her again or just leave her request in limbo. 

5) Feeling strangely distant and uninterested with the Inauguration.  Probably due to the fact that my usual enthusiasm for American politics was restrained, even throughout most of the election*.

6)  Otherwise, it's just business as usual.  Too much to do, too little time, though I'm still taking afternoon naps most days, just because if I don't A) I will OD my fetus on caffiene or B) I will be even more cantankerous...and no one wants that, trust me.

*Though that said, since I'm far from being a GWB fan, I am excited to start a new era of leadership.

I realized as I packed up three different bags today for my OB appt./errands, Lit class group project, and for daughter who is spending most of the day with my parents, that I am feeling a bit scattered.  For many months I used to pack one bag, the Fleurville diaper bag, and my primary hat or occupation was that of stay-at-home-mom.  These days the juggling act, while fulfilling on many levels, leads me to a land of bewilderment where I have to pause, take a breath, and remember where exactly I'm supposed to be.  Of course, my daughter always helps with that.  As I was staring at a stack of notebooks, index cards, etc., assessing what I would need, she walked up and looked at me with her doe brown eyes and said "Smile!". I concluded that a cuddle break was what I needed the most at that moment.  After all, we can still stop to smell the roses, even if we live life on a bullet train.

I wasn't ready for full-time working motherhood. 

Or I suppose, more accurately, the job I had - while enjoyable for the paycheck, adult company, and "measurable results" - wasn't as fulfilling as I thought it might be. 

I realize that it's a luxury that I can walk away from it.  I know under different circumstances I would've had to swallow my pride, stop whining about being away from my daughter, and basically just zip it for the greater good.  But, I'm lucky.

Work-related misery wasn't doing good things for my health - mental or physical, and in the long-run that wasn't good for my family. I also couldn't silence the urges to go to Grad School, write, absorb the rapidly moving moments of my daughter's development, and be that happy homemaker I've wrestled with, but ultimately become (mostly) content with.  In short, to use one of my favorite analogies, I was pushing a rock up a hill that just came rolling back onto me.  So, it was time to stop pushing the rock.

Of course all of this brings me back to square one.  But, it's different than it was several weeks ago, when I was heavy with anxiety about the "fork in the road".  I suppose sometimes we just have to hang out on the other side of the fence a while to know it's not greener. Or maybe I'm just one of those people that has to try everything at least once, so I don't feel like I'm missing out.  Either way, for now, I know where I belong, and that means I can sleep soundly tonight...at least for one night anyway.

There are times when I cannot wait to compose a post, when I'm burning to write about something troubling, exciting, or otherwise fascinating that's happened in my day or just in my brain.

Then, there are other times when there is a lot on my mind and I don't have the huevos to make it public.  While blogging has it's therapeutic qualities, there are days/weeks/months where I hermit myself into my protective shell and I become the world's biggest Anti-Blogger.

When I'm in the midst of blogger's block, I usually read other people's blogs.  But, sometimes their fearlessness and their gorgeous, practically professional photos just make me feel like I did back in the 6th grade when I had braces, ugly eyeglasses, and a tight, unattractive home perm. If they are creating beautiful blog art, then I'm definitely just a beginner.

But, I'm still here.  I'm not going anywhere.  And I'm pretty sure I'll have something important to say eventually.  Stay tuned.