Home alone. Well, not quite. It’s just me and Lil’ Abner till Sunday.
The mister is off to a conference – it’s a pretty big deal for him. So vibe him your very best goodwill. Because he’s a good one and he deserves it. Plus he’s awfully hard not to like.
We decided that the wee lad would go off with his daddy and they would both stay at the g-rents. So that the mister can concentrate with presenting and networking and selling his kick butt brand. So that I’m able to find small pockets of time to tackle custom orders and continue to craft product for Holiday shows.
It’s happened that every weekend, from now until the end of December is booked. Booked with gigs and shows and work and conferences and more work. Oy vey. Some of it I feel good about. Some of it satisfies the part of me that existed before I became a mother. Some of it is also chipping away at me being the kind of mother I want to be.
It’s challenging times over here in the land of us. Full of the regular stuff one can expect with having 2 kids under 2. (Yes, I’m talking about sleep deprivation and how it SERIOUSLY messes with one’s mojo – including the sanity which you loose. Also including the strain it can put on the parental units central fire.)
That’s Anishinaabe speak for relationship.
The truth of the matter is that we have careers, we run businesses that require us to both work more than full-time hours, from home and are feeling quite like nomads in the land of parenting. Wherein we are faced with colic that we think is making an exit but really, that’s just baby trickery. Oh, it’s a term. We have a darling, smiling baby girl who will not sleep for longer than an hour on her own…even at night. We have a baby who is not content unless being held, bounced or rocked – most often. For every inch that Abby is demanding in her ways…we know above all else, these things:
She is precious, innocent and needful.
For all of her diva-esque personality; she is darling, heart stealing and miraculous.
We know these things. And many more positive things. But yes, there are negatives. Challenges. And if I can’t speak about them here for fear of being a called a complainer, a bad mommy – in a realm where the intent is to provide support, alternative answers and expereince(s) – then what?
What are you or I here for? Camaraderie I hope. Other answers. Words of encouragement and amusement.
Because, as I sit here next to my fussing babe, I feel lost. Lost in knowing I have to make some serious decisions about our quality of life. As in shutting down, leaving one faucet of my career to rest. Lost because I want to do this better. I want to not get so frustrated when I can’t finish my to-do-list. Daily. So it’s time to make some of those items disappear. Not from not doing them – but becasue they are not my responsibility anymore.
My responsibility is nurturing and growing happiness. Mine. My family’s. Ours. Together. I need to take more time for walks like I did today in that picture up there and to attend play-groups and to exercise. I need more time for stories and crafting and singing and nursing and rocking and cuddling and running and squishing and cavorting and magic. I’m getting off of the big, loud, noisy freight train and chartering a single cable car.
Because I can. This is our life and but geez – this time? When my babies are so young? Is but a blip on the radar of said life and I opt to revel in it. Not race like hell, clawing and gnawing at it. I am lucky, because I don’t have to do that. Many families, many mothers in society DO have to claw and fight like hell just to survive. That’s not what any 1 of my careers is about. Surviving. We’ll be just fine without me being some kind of super-woman.
I know I am not alone in this, and there is a commonality amongst me and many other mama’s adjusting to life with a new baby number 1, 2, 3 or however many.
Are you struggling to keep up? Do you feel like it’s time for a change? Time to make some major changes for the better good? I’d love to hear from you. Strength and empowerment flourishes and grows by human bodies in attendance. Let’s multiply.