Momming is hard, y'all. It's more than just the raising of children, which I recognize I haven't even gotten to the meat of that beast yet.
It's the balancing of life. You go from knowing who you were, or at least well on your way to figuring it out, to a whole different person. You kind of become a stranger to yourself overnight. What are these opinions? I didn't have them before. What are these aversions? I don't know where they came from. What are these emotions? The ones that run rampant and, at times, drive my actions against my will. There's a lot of plates spinning in my new world.
There's worrying about our son. Are we stimulating him enough? Is he overstimulated? Is he growing fast enough? Is he on track with his development? The guilt of how tired I am. I want to be a fun mom. I feel like so far I'm just a yawny mom. Is he hungry or just fussy? Why won't he just give up this burp? I need to memorize more songs to sing to him. How many times can a baby listen to their mom sing Bluebird before his first words come out "Mommy, no more Bluebird."
There's my job. Am I doing a good enough job? Could I be doing more? Am I doing too much? Am I showing my worth? Am I utilizing my talent? Am I protecting my boundaries to ensure work-life balance?
There's regular life. Should I do laundry in my downtime? When was the last time we vacuumed? Is the dog getting enough attention? We should eat more vegetables. Is this a stress headache or am I dehydrated? The dishwasher needs to be emptied. Does the car have gas? When was the last time that thing was vacuumed?
There's relationships. I should have more things to talk about than just RB. I should call my parents. When was the last time I talked to Beau's mom? I think my sister-in-law is worried about me. My grandma would probably like to chat soon. Beau and I should spend some time together without RB. Would that be weird? We did that for the last 17 years, we should be able to do it now. What would I even talk about? Why did I snap at him yesterday? I should be nicer. Like way nicer. I'm trying to be nice. Why isn't it working? What happened to my optimistic attitude? Where did that girl go? Where did my personality go? I need to make some friends.
Then, there's just me. There's me existing. Self care. Sleep. Eating. At some point, walking outside into the sunshine. Planning for the future. Existing in the moment. Probably should wash my hair. Maybe a haircut? Fuck it, throw it into a bun. Woah, when did my nails get so long? I should go for a walk. When was the last time I worked out? I'm hungry. Like hungry all the time. Breastfeeding makes me hungrier than actually growing a human. I kind of want to cry. Is this PPD or am I just exhausted? I've always been a crier. It's hard to know if I'm crying more than normal. I cry a lot and quite easily, typically.
Some days, I'm balancing as well as a trained seal at Sea World (that is: very well). Other days I'm balancing about as well as a little kid taking off those training wheels (that is: not very well). I'm doing as best I can. And I'm really trying to be nice to myself in the process. I know I'm capable of doing this. I also know I'm doing it. I'll get better at balancing. I'll always have hard days. I'll have good days too. I want to be the best version of myself for my son, for our family, and for my damn self.
So, song of today is I Love You Bitch by Lizzo. And the bitch I love is myself. Even when I don't, I do.
Here's looking at you, kid. You got this. Even when you think you don't.
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