The great Ferris Bueller once said, “life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” So where have I been? Obsessing over parenthood, in hopes I don’t miss a thing.
In the early beginnings of parenthood, your days bleed into nights so easily, that a month will pass you by in what feels like mere hours. As your child grows, life morphs into a routine that defines your days so perfectly, that instead of time slowing, it speeds it up. Morning coffee, a nap, an errand, a play date, lunch, nap, shower, reading, dinner, bed. The outline of your day can become to precise, that before you know it, it’s time to start your day all over again. It’s a beautiful, exhausting whirlwind of a life.
I no longer fight sleep so that I can find another moment to myself. I am learning that moments with my son that are spent more alert and engaged, are ten times more appealing that slow blinking through another day. Maybe that’s been another reason why I quit blogging, but it’s been much more rewarding for me- mentally and physically. But why I am here, then? Because there will always be the part of me that needs to write my heart out. Spill everything that is building up within. Sometimes I feel it’s the quickest way to truth- my keyboard, my quiet, my time.
The other truth is, I kind of gave up on blogging. I’ve written my heart out for four years and counting, and it wasn’t until I started thinking about taking writing up seriously, that I began to feel burdened. It’s the reason why I never took up art in college as my mother had suggested- because once I start feeling like it’s a must, it loses it’s appeal and stops being fun. This is simply, and will remain, my place to pour. It will be the virtual baby book/ diary of motherhood that I need it to be. So that is the end of that chapter.
Today is special. Today I watched my son walk for the first time. Before you get too excited, I mean I watched him walk with the aid of a walker. A tiny, adorable wooden toy that has the ability to support walking with out potentially causing injury. Last week I watched him stand alone for the first time, which was amazing in itself, and even though he’s been turning everything into a walker, something about today took my breath away. It might have been the fact that this toy was made for the job. That it had wheels which moved faster than an old box being pushed along the floor. Watching his feet move in front of the other, the smile on his face, the sound of all of it. It was magical.
The moments that feel like that, so magical, aren’t every single moment of my day, which is what makes them so wondeful. There are still days where I don’t feel like I did the best I could do as a parent. A failure, if I am feeling especially dramatic. Too much TV, not enough stimulation, not enough activity, too much activity, the lack of a bath, etc. There are moments where I just feel so tired. I’m still learning that it’s okay to feel exhausted; it’s what you do in those down moments that define you as a bad/good/great parent. I’ve learned that being a stay at home parent is more than what I ever thought it was. Demanding isn’t even the right word. I look back at days where all I had to do was roll out of bed, maybe pick up after myself, and have a single goal of looking appropriate, yet feeling so overwhelmed by the demands of regular life. Having laundry wait on you isn’t nearly as serious as having a human child stare at you in a way that is asking “what’s next?,” and I miss it at times. I miss the freedom of actually needing an alarm clock. The feeling of having a weekend. Cooking a meal with out juggling several things, including that beautiful human baby, all at once. It’s a balancing act, it’s love, it’s energy. It’s something I never understood before, but completely understand now. And you single mothers? Where is your crown?
A humbling, completely raw moment hit me last week as I went to get water during a lunch date with a friend. As I filled my glass, I listened to an old man ask a young woman who took care of her baby while she nannied. I turned around and saw a woman my age, holding a darling baby girl who was maybe 3 months old, and tell the man “my Mom.” I instantly felt selfish for feeling overwhelmed. It’s a blessing. He is mine. He is being raised by me, and I am blessed to be able to live a life where that it possible. While it’s fine to feel tired, it’s essential to remain grateful for the opportunity alone.
So today, when I watched him walk around the house, so delighted in his own power, I cried. This doesn’t mean too much, as I cried earlier in the day during naptime, as I watched an episode of Maury, and sobbed my way through a paternity test reveal. Yeah that happened. I’m on my period, and I am selfishly relishing in all of my crazy emotions, as well as chocolate. Heaps and heaps of chocolate. But my baby put one foot in front of another today. He smiled and waved at strangers. He fed himself breakfast, lunch and dinner, and best of all, he laughed.
Even with those moments of exhaustion, the anxiety of feeling like you’re failing in some way, and the humbling that can come from eavesdropping, come joy in developmental milestones. And of course, with that joy comes the fear of time, and how ridiculously quick it seems to flow. It always comes full circle, I suppose.
Absorb it all.
Absorb it all.
Xo
Ty
