I know a lot of women who've had babies recently (as in, less than a year ago), a lot of them first time moms, like me. So, what are they doing that I'm not? Why can't I keep my shit together? If it's not trying to stay on top of bills, it's grocery shopping, it's house cleaning, it's car maintenance, it's taking a pay cut, it's Husband being on unpaid medical leave, it's working multiple jobs... you know what it's not? It's not updating my Blog, Twitter, MySpace or Facebook accounts. It's not shaving my legs or actually getting to dry my hair all the way BEFORE I throw it back. It's not keeping up with emptying my camera regularly and forwarding the latest and greatest pics. It's not writing to my son as I want to. It's not going on Playdates. It's not having that Date Night with Husband. It's not going back to school now that I have FINALLY figured out what I want to be when I grow up (a Lactation Consultant in case you were wondering).
But you know what else it IS? It's being a rocking chair, it's being the best singer on the planet, it's being a photographer, it's being a comedian, it's being goofy, it's being a refrigerator, it's being a teacher, it's knowing which songs instantly stop the crying (ABC's and Itsy-Bitsy), it's being the keeper of info for every detail everyday about the consistency and frequency of the poo's in my house, it's making sure that ALL of the grandparents have the opportunity to form a relationship. It's being full of mixed emotions. I know who I am, I choose to be what I am, I enjoy it and resent it all at the same time. Compromising what I want to do with what needs to be done 20 hours a day is exhausting and unfulfilling... but there is nothing, NOTHING that can wipe those feelings away like looking at this face:
and knowing, without a doubt, without even the briefest of hesitations, that this little person brings me more fulfillment and more satisfaction in one little smile, than any amount of time to myself could EVER provide. I look at this face and I can't understand why I ever wanted to leave the house. I see him and I realize that EVERY DAY of his life, I have smiled and I have laughed and I can't guarantee that that has happened at any other time in my life. I see his face light up when I walk into a room and I realize that I am just as important to him as he is to me. That he is my breath, my blood, my life, my heart and my soul and that hairy legs and damp hair might just be my price to pay for being blessed enough to experience such love and warmth and joy every single day.
And I believe people when they say it gets easier, I do. But I still wonder how these other first-time-mommy-bitches are managing to update their Internetz shit. Pfft. Overachievers...