Posted on | February 22, 2010 | 7 Comments
Today, J is six months old. It doesn’t seem like that’s possible, but apparently it is. So I think it’s appropriate that I talk today about one of the toughest parts of being a mom. Because I’ve been a mom for six months… barely any time at all, but I have already realized how difficult it is.
Maybe I’m just being selfish, but one of the hardest things for me so far is finding what I call “me time.” You know, the thirty minutes before bed when you used to read a few chapters out of a book. Or the favorite show you always watched at 8pm. A trip to the gym (where?!), grocery shopping without J, blogging without an audience. Those things are all long gone. And I’m a person who needs her “Me Time.” I don’t function well when all of my time is taken. I start to shut down in small doses until the only actual part of me that’s working is the part that says “WHY IS THIS HOUSE SO DIRTY” and “WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT” … you know, the angry part. (See? I’m rocking my Lent resolution.)
I don’t like being angry Law Momma. Husband doesn’t like angry Law Momma. Neither J nor the dog are fans of angry Law Momma. So how do I get me back? How do I find time to do the little things alone that will keep my sanity? I certainly don’t know. For the past two weeks I haven’t had a moment to myself. I’m either holding/entertaining/feeding J at home, or following orders at work. J has been so sick that he just doesn’t want anything to do with anyone but me. So when Husband does hold him, it’s for me to do something quick like shower or shovel food in my mouth at lightening speed.
I am starting to have this chip on my shoulder about motherhood and I don’t like it. Don’t get me wrong… I LOVE my son. I mean, completely, earth-shattering, massively un-explainable love. But I am not a fan of his ability to time suck. I just want to read a book. Or enjoy a glass of wine while watching a movie. I would even settle for an hour at the gym. I just want to be ALONE.
Husband has offered to start picking J up from daycare and allowing me to do whatever I want from 5:30 until 6. I have mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I think it could be a great rejuvenating time for me. On the other, I think I’ll miss my favorite part of the day in picking up J and for what? Thirty minutes of probable indecisiveness. Let’s face it. I’m more likely to sit and wonder what I could do for thirty minutes than to actually DO something. Or I’ll come home and try to read only to hear J crying in the background. There’s just no “off” switch to being a mom.
Example? Last night, Husband was going to put J to bed. He took him back to his bedroom and after about 10 minutes, I have a brain-frying headache from the shrieking. The child knows what he wants and how to get it. I stepped into the room and all was right with the world. He literally fell into my arms and was completely happy.
I hear about other moms who say their child will lie down in the crib and play until he/she falls asleep. My son? He will lie and play until he falls asleep but his toy of choice is my face. Seriously. Last night he had a massive breakdown if he wasn’t lying next to me grabbing my nose, my eyes, my lips and his new favorite, hitting my teeth. The good thing? He did it for about 10 minutes and then passed out cold. So at least he went to sleep.
The bad thing? I had not had dinner and had just poured a big glass of wine so I could enjoy some Olympics and blog-time after J went to sleep. I didn’t want to disturb him as soon as he fell asleep and Husband had said he’d “be right back” to take my place. So I waited. I waited until I woke up at 10:30 wondering what happened. When I came out into the living room, Husband was enjoying some “Husband time” and drinking my glass of wine. Needless to say, Angry Law Momma made an appearance.
Even when we PLAN “me time” it gets sucked up by life. But that’s got to change. I have to find some time for myself … other than the 20 minutes or so each morning when I furiously type out some crazy blog entry while J entertains (and evacuates) in the poop chair. Because lets face it, this is therapeutic, but it’s not cutting it for quality alone time.
I’m open for suggestions that don’t involve what I dreamed about last night. I was at a concert… it waffled between Jimmy Buffet and Dave Matthews, and sometimes J was with me and sometimes he wasn’t. I finally realized I didn’t know where he was and I totally freaked out. I was running around trying to find him and the concert was over and everyone was leaving and I couldn’t find him anywhere. I finally found him all swaddled up the way they did it at the hospital. He was so tiny and perfect with those big blue eyes just like when we first met. Where was he when I found him? Lying on a round, raised bar table. I hope that doesn’t say something about me….