Bitching and moaning.
I’m behind on everything. Reading. Writing. Creating. Working. Mixed tape for C-girl.
Everything.
(Well, except for Lost and Project Runway and America’s Next Top Model. ThankyoubabyJesus for DVR! And, btw, what do younguns call “mixed tapes” these days, being no one uses tapes anymore?)
And my OCD self hates feeling like I’m dropping the ball and sucking at everything I try to do lately.
The past few months have been brutal. Sofia’s been sick about twice a month. (Up from once a month since she started day care last August. Being a preemie, if there’s a germ out there, she’s going to pick it up full force.) Fortunately, she’s not come down with anything seriously threatening, but still enough to warrant trips to her doctor, urgent care and the pharmacy.
And when Sofie’s sick, it’s only a matter of time before Tim and I are sick.
(Oh yeah, throw in during that time a week-long trip to visit my familia in Kansas City. Tim started the trip sick.)
It’s hard to not become resentful of Tim at times like these. Afterall, he’s the one who wanted a baby. Yeah, I agreed (after many years of protesting), but I would never have pressed the issue; he was the one who was vocal about his biological clock ticking. I know it’s irrational to fall into the mentality of, “If you want a puppy, you’re going to have to take care of it because I’m not going to…” you know, Sofie not being a puppy and all. But I do often find myself going down that line of thought, as well as stating such to Tim.
I love
Sofie
an inexplicable
amount. And
I believe
I’m a good
mom. I’ve stated
before though that I believe I’d be good - damned good - at many professions. Many of them though, I just have no desire to assume. I think this Mom job is one of them.I love Sofie an inexplicable amount. And I believe I’m a good mom. I’ve stated before though that I believe I’d be good - damned good - at many professions. Many of them though, I just have no desire to assume. I think this Mom job is one of them.
I’ve always thought of myself as more the cool aunt type anyway. I’ll hit happy hour then come over and smother you with mojito-flavored kisses and presents resulting from a martini-induced shopping spree.
I’m able to separate in my head my dislike of being a mom with my love, affection and devotion for Sofie. It’s along the same lines of an ability on which I’ve always prided myself: on the job, I’m able to separate business from friendship. Of course I have friends at work - some of my bestest friends, but when a task needs to get done, I’m not going to pick you to be on my team just because you’re my friend. You have to be able to get the job done, or I’ll call your ass on it.
I’m beginning to think though that this ability of mine truly can’t - and shouldn’t - translate to my “professional” relationship with Sofie. Shouldn’t my relationship with Sofie be much more holistic, defying my absurd superpower to separate business from pleasure? Yes? No?
I don’t want to eventually scar Sofie into thinking I don’t want to be her mom. I mean, if I have to be a mom, I’m glad I’m hers. It’s just that I find myself not wanting to be a mom.
(Don’t worry folks… It’s not like I’m going to run away. My Horatio Alger-slash-obsessive-compulsive work ethic - and Sofie’s ridiculous cuteness - won’t allow me.)
Sigh. If only I could click my heels and find myself back in the days of happy hours, lingering cafe visits, geeking out on my computer, and endless hours of window shopping.
When does this mom thing finally get to the rewarding “I can’t imagine life before I was a mom/I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in the world” days? Because, believe me, I CAN and DO imagine and remember. Just as I remember how much it f*cking hurt to shoot a tiny 1 pound 12 ounce baby sans medication out of my hoo-ha. All those women who say that once they gave birth and saw their larger, watermelon sized babies, any brain cells that registered the pain of labor floated away… wtf? Either I am an alien unwittingly living on another planet, or I’m surrounded by aliens who have settled on my terra firma.
Or those Stepford Moms women have really good drugs. If so, I wish they’d share, or tell me the cross street where I could score some. Stat.
Especially since it’s worrying me to find myself knowingly shaking my head and saying, “I SO know what you mean, dude!” while witnessing my comrade in reluctant parenthood, Scott Baio, on his show Scott Baio is 46 and Pregnant.
Hm. Perhaps this is karma’s way of giving me a schadenfreudistic bite in the ass?
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7 Responses to “Bitching and moaning.”
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Um, no. I did not forget the pain of delivering an 8 pound 11 ounce baby without medication. I did not forget the pain of delivering the second kid three weeks early at 8 pounds 10 ounces without pain meds. And I was crapping kittens at the prospect (but I did it) of delivering the third one, sans pain medication because I am a dumbass glutton for punishment, who weighed in at 8 pounds 7 ounces.
Routinely I look at my husband and ask, when are going to get paid in hugs and kisses for all of this hard work? I *do* remember what life was like without children. I’m just sayin…
I hear ya sister.
p.s. I keep forgetting about my tape. Booyah!
I know EXACTLY what you mean. I love the relationship of being mom to my daughter, but I’m not so into the job duties. I’d love to outsource all the fetching and carrying and tending, only I think that’s where the little ones feel our love the most and that then becomes the foundation of our relationship. How many people do you know who complain about parents who were never there? Well, it’s in the being there, most of the time, that builds the relationship, and also wears us moms down like Chinese water torture.
And now that my pumpkin is 2 weeks shy of 12, I can tell you that her first year was the hardest of my life and my marriage, and that I mourned my old life a great deal. I don’t feel like I was able to look up and see who I could be apart from being a mom until my wee one went to kindergarten. That’s 5 friggin’ years of nose-to-the-grindstone baby focus. Of course you get tired and hate it. Every mom who is truthful does too. That’s why we need to live in tribes again so that we can hand off beloved baby to extended family when we’ve got a craving for a mojito. Your precious bundle is barely one year old. It will get easier, I promise.
We all go through these phases…life is full of ups and downs…or hills and valleys…have my metaphors satisfied your OCD yet? :)
Scott Baio?? Who made that marketing decision…lol
Bradley
The Egel Nest
I don’t know nothing about birthing babies, since Amy and I aren’t having any, but I certainly can imagine the conflict–it’s the people who act like having kids is always just the gravy that I don’t trust a bit.
I do know something about making mixed tapes, as I still do. Can’t ever get rid of my car as it’s one of the last models with a tape player. It’s just not as satisfying putting a mixed playlist together–there’s nothing physical about it. And it is music after all.
All I can say is, I love you, and I love what you’re trying to do. Whatever it is. If you think about it, you have only been a mom for a fraction of Sofie’s potential life-span. There’s lots more to come. Lots of *different* more… Of course, I’m imagining, cause I’m just a cool aunt to many, and a mom to none. Unless you count those chubby cats over there. Which I don’t… that much. I loves ya.
M’dear, I have no words of wisdom (damn it!). Just wanted to say this: You rock. I wanna be you when I grow up.
C-girl: When my brother-in-law first heard how much Sofie weighed at birth, he remarked, “I’ve taken sh!ts bigger than that!” DANG! You’re super, woman! My little Sofie hurt plenty much for me. I can’t imagine! Good thing the survival of the human race isn’t dependent upon me. That’s all I gotta say.
Claire: It certainly was nice when we all went to KC recently to visit my family. Everyone wanted to hold/play/be with Sofie, which led to some nice breaks for me and Tim. However, I’m pretty sure if we went back to doing the tribe thing, I’d need a whole lot more than the occasional 2-hour long happy hour with mojitos. :)
Bradley: No! Never enough metaphors! More! More! And I gotta say, if ultra mellow YOU can get frazzled, then perhaps I’M not so off-base afterall. Thanks. :)
George: Thank you for your support. Although, since I’ve first read your comment, I’ve totally been craving gravy. mmmm… And I’ve seen your Friday random 10 lists… A mixed tape from you WOULD be the gravy. :)
Kerri: Lots more, eh? sigh. And, yes, you are a cool aunt, including to Sofie. Speaking of which, I was with her on my bed the other day and she started rolling around. I cautioned her, “Don’t do an Aunt Kerri!” and roll off the bed. I think it would be very helpful for you to demonstrate for her.
Joanna: Your kind words have been warped in my mind, as I now envision you as a grown up me, i.e. me with blonde hair and your Nova Scotian accent. THAT would be funny. But not as funny as listening to you speak with a Chinese accent. :)
XOXOXO everyone!