A while back, I wrote about how we might have found a Unitarian Universalist congregation that we'd like to join. My background is Protestant, and Alastair is from a mixed marriage, Jewish and Protestant, and neither of us are particulary religious, but we like the idea of being a part of a spiritual community of some sort -- particularly for the girls' sake. We dig the vibe and values of the UU church, and Alastair has started getting more involved with the UU world through his music.
Unfortunately, we've become disenchanted with the church where we were testing the waters, and have started to shop around. This is the beauty of living in the Boston area -- there is a UU church in pretty much every town. Yesterday, we visited a new congregation, which we really liked. But since we're talking religion, can I make a confession? Easily 50% of my motivation for wanting to go to church these days is the free childcare. (If Unitarians believed in hell, I'm sure I would be headed there.)
Of course, this weekend I was definitely in the mood for some spiritual solace, too. The latest battle with the big D rages on unabated. Friday, I could literally barely get out of bed for most of the day. That is a new low for me -- the less said about it, the better. Saturday was not quite as bad, and by Sunday, I was obviously feeling functional enough to get out the door and go to a brand new church where I would (egad) have to make eye contact with people I didn't know. I was weepy during the service, but I attribute only half of that to depression, and half to the fact that the whole service focused on Obama's victory. Even the minister was getting choked up while reading excerpts from his election night speech.
But I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it was a beautiful thing to be able to drop the girls off in the church nursery -- for FREE! -- and relax and reflect for the next hour, knowing they were just steps away, in good hands. The nursery was full of toys, lots of other little kids and toddlers, and a few wonderful volunteers, most moms themselves, who welcomed the girls warmly and effectively distracted them as we left.
As we walked up the stairs to the sanctuary, I said to Alastair, "Maybe we should just forget the service and go get some brunch." He said, "We should figure out what time all the different churches in a five mile radius have their services and stagger it so we just go from church to church all morning." I said we should think about going to a synagogue, too, so we'd get a break on Saturday mornings as well.
All of which leads to the issue which, I suppose, is at the heart of this post: the strange contradiction of how much fun it is to be with our girls and yet, how difficult and tiring it can be, and what a relief it is to have a break.
I think the demands of looking after and entertaining the girls are, in part, why the weekends have been harder for me during this recent bout of depression. Monday through Thursday, I work the majority of the time, and just watch the girls on Wednesday afternoon. Thursday afternoon, the sitter comes. But Friday through Sunday, there's no structure and no sitter. It's just us and them and a whole lotta time to fill. Not to mention the many little weekend chores we need to get done. Add in rain or cold, and it's even harder.
We're going to try to add a little more structure in the coming months, as the weather deteriorates -- we're about to register for swim lessons, and I'm going to look into library storytimes, etc. Maybe a music class, if we can find one that's not too pricey. I'd even consider having the sitter come every Saturday or Sunday afternoon, but aside from the expense, I'd honestly just feel too guilty about it.
Is this just a twin parent thing? Or just a depressed twin parent thing? Do other folks out there simultaneously love and dread spending extended stretches of time with their toddlers? (And/or exploit religious institutions as a means of relief?) I never knew I could enjoy being a parent so much and at the same time so strongly crave time for myself. How on earth do you stay-at-home moms out there do it?
Fancy hairdos courtesy of Adriana, our regular sitter. Third child (Marlie) courtesy of Megan and Charlie.
