The allowance of time
Maybe you're the type of person, mother, who slid into the role effortlessly; instinctively knowing what every sound meant, knowing when and how to transition into the next phase for you and your child, but that wasn't me. I've stumbled and fallen so many times that recovering from mistakes has become my parenting style. All too often I see the truth of my life in humbling hindsight.
My favorite parts of the last twenty, or so, months of motherhood have been the stretches of calm tranquility after I sort through the parts that aren't working and put us on a forward track that doesn't drive any of us insane. The last few months have probably been the most peaceful, and I have savored them.
I've spoken about my increased confidence, my happiness with life in general and my hope for the future, but I wasn't aware that it could so easily slip away.
Foolish, right?
I'm the type of person who doesn't always recognize a deep need for personal time. I know, I know, I've read all of the same advice that you've read, that people need time alone and hobbies and I've parroted all of that as truth, but I never realized exactly how much utilizing that time would become necessary.
I thought I was getting enough time.
Again, foolish, right?
My brilliant parenting and housewife strategy, up to this point, was to pay attention to Nora, then squeeze housework into the nap that Nora takes in the afternoon - the idea being that if I'm quick enough I can do one "big" chore a day and still have time to watch tv, write, workout, whatever. Unfortunately, more often than not, I would run into the problem that I spend the full two hours cleaning, with the occasional workout and inadvertently building resentment towards Nora if she woke up early. Or Adam, just because.
The consequence was that I was trying to find personal time while Nora was awake, using television and too many time outs so that I could decompress in two minute sections that didn't really help. Whatever bond I had built with Nora was unraveling and I definitely didn't feel like I was excelling as a mother. Sure, she was learning to talk and blossoming, but that was all her, not me. I got lucky and I wasn't doing enough to honor that.
So......that leads us to today. Well, yesterday. No, Tuesday.
What happened on Tuesday? Well, I snapped. I have been concerned that I shouldn't be a stay at home mom for weeks, months, even, because my bad days had become "me." It wasn't pretty.
Now, I should jump in and mention that when I say "snapped," I mean it entirely mentally. No one was harmed in my breakdown, except me.
I was scurrying around trying to squeeze cleaning the bathrooms and mopping all of the floors into one two hour stretch so that I could, in theory, get one hour to write this week. Yes, I had started doubling my chores to try to get my free time, but it hadn't been working out the way I'd planned. All that happened was that I doubled chores and spent Thursday and Friday miserable. There I am, rushing and miserable and crying, for the millionth time in the last month, and I just couldn't do it anymore.
My brain is conditioned to be a runner, a quitter. My greatest strength is my ability to hear the complete bullshit stuff my childhood taught me, all of the self-hate, and, yes, give in for a while, but I never give in completely. I might have spent weeks crying because I couldn't imagine my life without Nora and Adam, but I was so unhappy and I knew that I was making them unhappy, and the idea that I might have the solution already in my brain was foreign. Just imagine a lot of pity parties and me slipping loose cash from Adam's wallet to fund my escape. I wouldn't have gotten far - I had forty-three dollars and twenty-seven cents.
Standing in the middle of the bathroom, absolutely done with everything, and convinced that I couldn't take off in the middle of the night because then who would clean my bathrooms, I devised a plan that probably already occurred to the majority of the people reading this; I decided that Nora was old enough to follow me around for an hour while I do my one big chore a day and I can start using her nap to actually relax. Real, proper rest.
Are you weeping with joy? I am.
The last two days have been brilliant. We have spent so much time playing and laughing and dancing. I haven't become annoyed once. She hasn't needed a single time out. I spent an hour reading the same book, which a week ago would've sent me over the edge, and Nora has been great about occupying herself while I cleaned.
I no longer feel like jumping off a building. I actually feel like the mother I'm supposed to be.
Yes, there are tough moments because she's nearly two and will throw a tantrum faster than I've ever seen, but knowing that I can watch my soap, workout, write and generally not have to be responsible for two hours is all the motivation I need to press on and, oh my, I really hope this new found sense of domestic tranquility lasts for ages.
My favorite parts of the last twenty, or so, months of motherhood have been the stretches of calm tranquility after I sort through the parts that aren't working and put us on a forward track that doesn't drive any of us insane. The last few months have probably been the most peaceful, and I have savored them.
I've spoken about my increased confidence, my happiness with life in general and my hope for the future, but I wasn't aware that it could so easily slip away.
Foolish, right?
I'm the type of person who doesn't always recognize a deep need for personal time. I know, I know, I've read all of the same advice that you've read, that people need time alone and hobbies and I've parroted all of that as truth, but I never realized exactly how much utilizing that time would become necessary.
I thought I was getting enough time.
Again, foolish, right?
My brilliant parenting and housewife strategy, up to this point, was to pay attention to Nora, then squeeze housework into the nap that Nora takes in the afternoon - the idea being that if I'm quick enough I can do one "big" chore a day and still have time to watch tv, write, workout, whatever. Unfortunately, more often than not, I would run into the problem that I spend the full two hours cleaning, with the occasional workout and inadvertently building resentment towards Nora if she woke up early. Or Adam, just because.
The consequence was that I was trying to find personal time while Nora was awake, using television and too many time outs so that I could decompress in two minute sections that didn't really help. Whatever bond I had built with Nora was unraveling and I definitely didn't feel like I was excelling as a mother. Sure, she was learning to talk and blossoming, but that was all her, not me. I got lucky and I wasn't doing enough to honor that.
So......that leads us to today. Well, yesterday. No, Tuesday.
What happened on Tuesday? Well, I snapped. I have been concerned that I shouldn't be a stay at home mom for weeks, months, even, because my bad days had become "me." It wasn't pretty.
Now, I should jump in and mention that when I say "snapped," I mean it entirely mentally. No one was harmed in my breakdown, except me.
I was scurrying around trying to squeeze cleaning the bathrooms and mopping all of the floors into one two hour stretch so that I could, in theory, get one hour to write this week. Yes, I had started doubling my chores to try to get my free time, but it hadn't been working out the way I'd planned. All that happened was that I doubled chores and spent Thursday and Friday miserable. There I am, rushing and miserable and crying, for the millionth time in the last month, and I just couldn't do it anymore.
My brain is conditioned to be a runner, a quitter. My greatest strength is my ability to hear the complete bullshit stuff my childhood taught me, all of the self-hate, and, yes, give in for a while, but I never give in completely. I might have spent weeks crying because I couldn't imagine my life without Nora and Adam, but I was so unhappy and I knew that I was making them unhappy, and the idea that I might have the solution already in my brain was foreign. Just imagine a lot of pity parties and me slipping loose cash from Adam's wallet to fund my escape. I wouldn't have gotten far - I had forty-three dollars and twenty-seven cents.
Standing in the middle of the bathroom, absolutely done with everything, and convinced that I couldn't take off in the middle of the night because then who would clean my bathrooms, I devised a plan that probably already occurred to the majority of the people reading this; I decided that Nora was old enough to follow me around for an hour while I do my one big chore a day and I can start using her nap to actually relax. Real, proper rest.
Are you weeping with joy? I am.
The last two days have been brilliant. We have spent so much time playing and laughing and dancing. I haven't become annoyed once. She hasn't needed a single time out. I spent an hour reading the same book, which a week ago would've sent me over the edge, and Nora has been great about occupying herself while I cleaned.
I no longer feel like jumping off a building. I actually feel like the mother I'm supposed to be.
Yes, there are tough moments because she's nearly two and will throw a tantrum faster than I've ever seen, but knowing that I can watch my soap, workout, write and generally not have to be responsible for two hours is all the motivation I need to press on and, oh my, I really hope this new found sense of domestic tranquility lasts for ages.
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