Navel gazing installment #27

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while, probably dropping big hints all over the blogosphere. Then Mama’s Losin’ It comes along with this prompt and I threw up my hands and said that’s it.  It’s time.  Time to spill my angsty crapola all over my readers.

I have a degree in Recreational Therapy.  The concept is finding play in everyday activities. It sort of isthe theme of my life, always goofing off, looking at the bright side, finding a joke, REACHING for a joke at the most inappropriate times. It’s worked for me for a good many years.

Another tidbit, which I’ve shared before, is that I knew I always wanted to be a mother, not having a clue as to what that would mean other than having a cute kid (because of COURSE MY KIDS would be cute!).  I even felt I had a calling. And I’m great with kids, loved babysitting when I was younger, being a camp counselor in college, even inviting the neighbor boys over to play, WITH ME!

Funny thing this parenthood, more specifically MOTHERHOOD!  No one told me about the neurosis. I remember watching the news while nursing Maddy, just a few a days old and I had to ask Adonis to turn it off.  What had I done? Bringing a child into this world with all this violence, child abuse, war and poverty? How irresponsible of me? And yes, it was probably the first time I honestly had THAT thought. Responsibility was never something I took seriously.

There were a few warnings. Moms telling me to take time to read, get pedicures, get pampered, have me time, because I would never have this time as a nonMom again. I blew them off. Yeah right. I’m going to be a working mom, not a housebound, live my child’s every breath, tied to meal/nap schedules.(SAHM’s I now know you are Saints on earth, I bow to your generous nature and patience!) Life wasn’t going to change that much. I’d love on her in the morning, drop her off at the sitters and come back hours later, wrapping her in my arms until Adonis came home and then I’d be off to the gym, barely changing my daily routine.  Right?

Yeah, not so much.

Also my boobs!  NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT THE BOOBS!

So there has been a period of adjustment and I have yet to fully embrace my role. I’m constantly thinking of my point of view, how this activity will affect my life and my daughter’s impression/experience always came second.

The neurosis creeps up on me…Law and Order SVU, we are NO longer friends. But for the most part, I’m still a woman living outside the bubble. I get my daily dose of mommy bloggers and I LOVE YOU ALL.  You are amazing women with wisdom beyond anything I’ll ever know. But I read your posts, the comments and I sit back and think “What? You worry about this stuff? I’m SUPPOSED to worry about this stuff?”

I think about how hands off my mom was. She made sure there was healthy food in the house, no matter how poorly she prepared it. She washed our mouths out with soap if she heard us use bad words and she was a drill sergeant when it came to doing chores.  Dad didn’t actively monitor curfews but if he heard the door and you were late, you were in trouble.

These were my parenting role models. We’d tell them we were going to the park and were told “be home for dinner.” Off to the pool? Just as long as you didn’t go RIGHT after lunch. There was never any birds and the bees talk until it was obviously too late and then it was still “the church says this is a sin.” But we knew we were loved. The joking and ribbing we got was their way of showing us they knew our soft spots and knew how far they could push without doing any damage. These same parents watched as my 17 and 14 year old brothers let my 2 year old sister climb into a sheet that they then tied up and swung her around and around and around like some circus act.

I feel guilty at times. I will be in the kitchen cooking dinner and I hear Mad and Adonis playing together. Its wonderful to hear the laughter and teasing. Yes, Maddy knows how to tease her daddy. I hear them and know that really isn’t the relationship I have with my daughter. We play and are silly but only when Mommy’s rested, had time to decompress, cleared her to do list. Its an awful feeling. I curse when she calls me at 1am, asking for milk and then again at 5am. I curse when I get up in the morning, angry that I don’t have the energy to go for a run before work, not having the time for a run to the gym on the way home.

Yes, someone smack me. Tell me to grow up. Tell me that I am not 26 and single, living in the city with my only concerns being what I’m going to wear to the bar that night. Someone tell me to stop wearing mini skirts and knee socks in the dead of winter, 3 months pregnant and facing 40.

My one mommy moment, that I cling to with desperation is when I take Maddy out of the bath. I wrap her in a towel and hold her close for just a short time. If I don’t she says “Mommy hold me!” I think she too needs this. And its right then when I am her mommy and not just me. The exhaustion may linger but the warmth of her body, her writhing to get closer to me shrouds me in motherness.

So yes, I’m facing an identity crisis, my mommy pants haven’t settled on my hips, my singleness, yes, singleness (sorry Adonis, that’s another post) still has a tight grip on me. Angsty is only the tip of the iceberg.