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| A picturesque corner of my cluttered apartment, one of the limited places suitable for public appearance. |
It sounds like I'm making excuses to not clean. But honestly I hate clutter. I hate that until Saturday my apartment usually sits in a state of utter chaos. I hate not wanting anyone to see my apartment six days out of the week. But what I realized this year was that I can't have it all; I can have a really clean apartment and miss savoring those little moments with Roger and David in the evenings where we are just a little family of three, or I can have a messy apartment and spend my evenings laughing and talking and snuggling and nursing my happy baby to sleep. I really haven't figured out a way to do both. Maybe I will someday. Maybe that comes when the kid finally sleeps through the night and mommy has energy again.
Motherhood brings me all sorts of new perspective. I mean, there are certain things you just can't learn from a book, or even by being told by someone who's learned it herself. Before Roger was born I was uber-prepared for childbirth. I read books on natural childbirth techniques, diet in pregnancy, breastfeeding guides, etc., and they all really helped me feel like I understood what I had undertaken, and made my labor go really well and helped so much as I began breastfeeding my tiny Biscuit in the hospital. But that's about as far as those books took me. Roger has defied all parenting guides. I don't doubt that most parents would say the same for at least one of their children; no matter what the books say to do to get them to sleep, eat, or behave as you think they ought, they just have a mind of their own.
Pre-motherhood me would have been shocked at six-months-of-motherhood me. I really thought I of all people, the professional nanny who's entire career has been working with babies and kids of all ages and special needs and autism and ADHD, would have had my baby trained like a perfect little puppy by now. Trained to eat on schedule, and take a bottle sometimes, and allow his father to put him to bed at night, and actually sleep in his crib. Hahahaha...HAHAHA...(this laugh is becoming a little maniacal...I'm scaring myself.)
What pre-motherhood me didn't know is how much more I would enjoy life if I just let go of what the books say and just follow my instincts and Roger's cues. When I was so concerned about "doing it right" instead of just going with the flow, I had some really, really, bad nights. Trying to get Roger to go to sleep in his crib and struggling for two+ hours, staying with him while he cried and cried, and then joining him myself and sobbing like a defeated, powerless failure of a mom, until we were both too worn out and just fell asleep together in my bed. The term "accidental parenting" branded me a failure in my own mind as I recalled it from reading "The Baby Whisperer." Mommy guilt on top of sleep-deprivation and mild damage to my eardrums from baby decibels; those nights sucked. And perhaps from sheer exhaustion or weakness of will, I gave up on the idea of sleep-training and decided to let my baby be the sweet little baby he is while he is, and enjoy his precious dependence on me for his every need.
What a difference perspective makes. Roger hasn't become a better sleeper. Worse, even. He wakes up 3-6 times per night needing to nurse in order to be soothed. But I no longer worry about it. It won't last forever. And that makes it precious. He won't always be my baby, as "Love You Forever" has so achingly taught me. He won't always look at me like I am the be-all, end-all of his existence. And so for now, in all it's inconvenience, I still choose to cherish these fleeting moments of his littleness and neediness.
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| Milk drunk. That's how we party. |
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