Some days I'm able to tap into emergency energy sources deep inside me, and other days, like today, I'm somewhat of a robot- going through the motions on autopilot. Physically functional, but not all there in the head. I like to think of myself as always all there in the head- always having a firm grasp and handle on my business- but I know that this is overcompensation for the fact that I quite often am not all there in the head. I used to pride myself on that when I was younger, but now it can seem like a handicap in this new role in life I play if I don't keep it in check.
Before I had my babies, I embraced my need to drop my basket- let go, escape, TURN OFF.
Now I have to find more constructive ways of doing this- ways that are healthier, safer and more responsible. It's tricky, as any parent knows, to go from a lifetime of taking Number One into consideration first, to suddenly putting yourself at the bottom of your totem pole.
I try to run a tight ship at home, and it gets exhausting. It's not my babies that are exhausting. It's being a mother in general. Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. That's another thing about being a mom... learning to accept the fact that you can still be grateful and thankful and appreciative for your life, love your children and your husband unconditionally, and still admit to being worn out and yearning for alone time.
There's a billion things I want to do but there's never enough time. Balancing getting the necessities done to keep my home from falling to pieces, keeping my babies entertained, happy and taken care of, and being a good partner to my husband leaves little- if any- room at the end of the day for "Me Time." Lately I've been managing to somehow find bits of time for myself... usually later in the evening when I should be getting some sleep. Emptying my head on a blog seems to help with the mind clutter swimming around when I lay down at night.
People offer to "take" my babies so as to give me a break- but a lot of the time I don't need or want anyone to "take"my babies. Despite a desire for alone time, I want my babies with me. I don't like being apart from them, even when I do get the opportunity to get a "break." It's a contradiction of mind and heart that I never anticipated when we decided to become parents.
Every now again I get a few moments to surf through other people's blogs to check out others' perspectives. The ones I find myself most drawn to are usually the ones whose styles are so very different from my own. There is one mommy blogger whose blog strikes me as a completely different end of the same spectrum that I operate from, if that makes any sense. Her photos and her writing are very "rose colored lenses," with beautiful photographs of tiny natural details in life (threading in cloth, dewdrops on flowers, trees "dancing" in the breeze, etc. ), whimsical, wistful, poetic writing that paints imagery in pastels.
There are pretty, crisp, artsy photos of her doing maternal things like gardening in cute, chick, bohemian mommy clothing, wearing her baby in stylish baby wraps, day dreaming with her baby while swinging in hammocks, looking at gorgeously captured sunshine, dishes of exotic looking meals she's cooked, right down to the itty bitty details of the spices used to create them.
Her world of motherhood looks so peacefully hip and glamourous. She could make even the most child-phobia ridden woman's uterus ache to be filled with a baby, I think.
I enjoy her blog because it is so opposite from the tone that my own voice stems from. I wish that I had an eye for that kind of beauty, in that way. I admire her ability to creatively speak from a place like that. I wish I had moments where my bliss is captured so ethereally. And I guess I wish that I had someone photographing me doing all the maternal things that I do too- although I don't think I could ever look as cute as she does, so effortlessly.
I don't think that I'd look as put together and chick in the beat up old, baby spit up stained Beatles shirt and workout shorts that have become my uniform most days of the week, make up less with an unwashed ponytail, chipped black fingernail polish and black-rimmed Ray Ban glasses, picking up hundreds of Hot Wheels off my floors, washing poopy cloth diapers and making peanut butter jelly sandwiches.
I read her blog, and the artistic talent reflected through it says to me that those kinds of pretty pictures and that kind of flowery language is the way that a mother's voice is supposed to look like and sound like when reflecting on her life... but it's not realistic to think that way- to believe that any one picture of motherhood is the way it's "supposed" to be.
We all have our own realities and project them in our own ways, and I know I can't force my voice to be anything than what it is.
I find beauty in my own right, and these days it's all wrapped up in the faces of my babies- even on my most burnt out evenings, the image of their smiling faces is what helps me go to sleep at ease.
READY, SET, GO!
ONCE UPON A TIME
R&R
ABOUT A BOY
FUN UNCLE
SOLAR SYSTEM CREATION
MIRROR, MIRROR
NEXT GENERATION MEOW
GRIPPING
REGRESSION
