I loved the analogy my friend Tania shared with me this evening.
I was telling her about the little hints of jealousy that are starting to creep up into our little family (mommy is evan going to be outside of your belly ALL day today?). I admitted that I honeslty thought those initial weeks of crazy behavior of his former self were all we would get. I thought it was all done and we moved on as a family unit, free of memory from the old life. I have no idea why I thought this. I know I remember clearly what life was like before 2, of course a toddler probably feasts his dreams on the memory of grand personal attention he used to get.
My friend told me to imagine what it would be like if Mike brought home a new, cute, younger wife that suddently needed a lot of his attention. I am sure I would start to wonder when that new person would be leaving so we could have the old life back and I could be the main attraction again. And even the times she came along grocery shopping in the stroller I would still know she was there even if she was sleeping and quiet, it would not be alone time with Mike. I would know things are still different and I was no longer #1.
Anyway, she said it in a way that was a lot more comical. The point is, of course, it's going to be an adjustment for a long time and of course there is jealousy. It's just never truly going to come out in obvious ways. I am not going to hear a 3 year old say hey mom, I am jealous. Can you put the baby down and play soccer at the park with me again? It sure sucks for me that you are busy with someone else all the time now. No, coloring for 5 minutes this morning doesn't make it all better. I think I am going to go urinate on my books since you are holding him right now because I am mad.
I just have to put his clues together and do what I can to balance and take the advice of scheduling little one-on-one time when possible. Letting him pick what we do and where we go and giving him back a little of what he used to have.
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I passed a blind man this week and regret not stopping to tell him how incredible of a day it was. About the colors and the grass and the beauty of this earth. I was enjoying the crunching of the leaves and the bright green surrounding me with a backdrop sky one would craft up in a dream. Northern California is simply so crisp with color and freshness like a digital workmanship's end product. It almost feels fake, like I could kick over the cardboard trees and the birds are Oz, just chirping from a speaker. It was like a little piece of my mind gave thanks for The Creation and pretended The Garden of Eden might really be around the corner.
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I actually responded to an adult this week using the word "silly" with a straight, seriously genuine face. I guess I should have followed up with my trademark fish face, gets the kids every time.
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I hear myself slipping away, that identity we mothers clutch onto for dear life. The purse that's been hanging in the closet for so long it really can't be considered fashionably late. I don't bother shopping for fall trends because I can't figure out how to get my carpet vaccuumed within a 10 day stretch of time. The tending to one more additional person pulls more from my time than I want to accept. But I never realize it until I look at that check list I created 14 hours prior. Nothing can be crossed off. Not a single thing.
But the measure of success must change and it's no longer a day at the park that leaves me feeling pleased. It's making one smile and the other laugh. Getting a morning shower out of the way. Kissing my man and making him grin. Laughing with a friend on the phone, usually while I wash dishes or fold laundry. Multi-tasking takes on a new meaning. Much like the way challenge today is different compared to what I thought it mean 2 years ago, or even 2 months ago.
I'm still here, inside. I just don't think about me nearly as much or daydream about the extending of frivilous skills right now. There isn't time or energy. And that's an adjustment all over again, but essential for today's priorities. My responsibilities are wide, but not impossible and they are important enough to allow frivilous joys to take a back seat until I have room again. It might be an hour one week and two another. It might have to wait a month. Or a season. But I am still here. And I still eye that bowl at the skatepark waiting for me to come play. And the drumkit wanting to sing. And my running shoes yearning to crunch the leaves with a rythmic beat. Think about that list of things to see and do and try and dream. I am getting my home in order and my children cared for and these are things I wish came more natural for me to excel at. But they don't so I must work at them and that is where I am.
