Timing

Yikes, have I only posted one other blog entry during September? Well, I have one post in the works that I keep re-editing because I’m afraid of offending someone. And frankly, I find that when I start writing with the “I wonder what X, Y, or Z person will think of this” in mind, the quality of my writing becomes . . . well, sort of crappy. Anyhoo, the past few weeks have been extremely busy (the biggest and most difficult book of my career thus far was sent to press) as well as strangely reflective. I find myself pondering all sorts of things, from being a working mommy to how to handle Charlotte’s baptism to whether or not I really need to vacuum the stairs this weekend. Who dominates my thoughts? Charlotte. Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte. My girl is now almost 8 months old, and I am simply awed by her. I feel a ridiculously huge surge of love for her with just about every little thing she does—whether she smiles, sticks her finger in her ear, grabs her toes, or lets out a giant belch. I stand in the doorway of her classroom at daycare and stare at her playing until Chris pulls me away so we’re not late for work. I am utterly amazed that two pink lines on a pregnancy test over a year ago became Charlotte, with her distinct personality, light-up-the-room smile, and big fat appetite. And I marvel at how our lives have changed since January 30th. I know of several babies who were born in the last couple of weeks, and a few more are due shortly. Whenever I hear of the birth of a baby, I can’t help but think back to my first few weeks with Charlotte. The shock of how much (and how instantly) everything changed. The sleep deprivation. The misery of breastfeeding. The fact that I no longer determined when or if I could do something—like shower, eat, or put on make-up. The first 8 or 9 weeks or so were really difficult for me, and I recently told Chris that I didn’t particularly care for the newborn stage. I much prefer the chubby-baby-loads-of-personality stage. Chris agreed, but he also thinks #2 will be easier. He chalked up a lot of the Newborn Charlotte–Era distress to our cramped, FREEZING apartment; lack of preparation (she was born a week early and we had thought working late each night was more important than baby prep—doh!); lack of a nursery; two back-to-back, record-setting blizzards a couple days after her birth; and MOVING. I’ll even (reluctantly) admit to the classic “baby blues” during the majority of my maternity leave. Judge me if you must, but you have a baby in the dead of winter with zero support within 3,000 miles, struggle with breastfeeding, don’t sleep—EVER, and live in a tiny apartment with heaters that don’t work, and you tell me how well you fare. I loved Charlotte to death, but I felt so ill-equipped for the whole motherhood thing. The fact that she depended on ME—a new mom with no baby experience—was terrifying. But there’s something about the sheer neediness of a baby that forces you to get out of bed when you think you simply can’t, causes you to realign your weekend to baby-friendly activities, and makes you earmark the majority of your paycheck for childcare you trust. In other words, Charlotte has forced Chris and me to stop functioning how we want and to instead plop her into the middle of our universe, our lives circling around her as though she’s the sun itself. (And what a cute sun she makes.) It’s a shock, suddenly having somebody else determine your every moment, your every move. It’s not easy. And after almost 8 months, I have managed to let go of a lot of what I treasured in my pre-kid life—namely, TIME. Time to read, time to clean the house to my standards, time to bake, time to go on a fancy date with Chris, time to write, time for ridiculous craft projects. Of course, Charlotte is now less demanding and a lot more fun than she was as a newborn or young baby, which reduces a lot of pressure. In fact, she’s so hilarious that I waste plenty of time just watching her be a goof. So for the most part, I can accept the lack of time and I (work to) see the virtue in sacrificing my alone time for Charlotte and our home. Still, as I wash the billionth bottle of the week, knowing that tomorrow there will be countless more, I often find myself longing for some time to myself. And now, I face the possibility of 8 hours of TIME BY MYSELF. Tomorrow, I have the day off from work (I have a weird schedule—too complicated to explain). I have child care already paid for via Charlotte’s daycare, and I’m tempted by visions of shooing off Chris and Charlotte for the day, getting back into bed with a book and a mug of coffee, catching up on laundry, and perhaps finishing an art project that I’ve been working on since May for Charlotte’s nursery. Tempting. So tempting. But here’s the simple truth: I’d rather blow all that off, keep Charlotte with me, and have Charlotte–Mommy Day. So tomorrow, after her morning nap, we’ll play, go for a walk around the neighborhood, nap one more time, and then go shopping. Perhaps we’ll lunch at Nordstrom. I can’t figure it out. I’ve been waiting for 9/24 for a long time, yearning for ONE day to myself! And yet . . . I find that all I really want is some uninterrupted time with my girl. Huh. Perhaps what I wanted all along was a nice long stretch of time with Charlotte, with nothing else competing for my attention—no work, housework, or errands. No agenda except being with Charlotte. And tomorrow, that’s what I get! Of course, the next time I have a day off, it might be just Mommy Day. Ask any mother: A girl needs a break once in awhile.