“I got five hours of uninterrupted sleep last night!!!!!”
Prior to becoming a Mother I would have made this statement
with despair as opposed to joy, but considering for the last two months I
haven’t logged more than two hours straight, I’m ecstatic. It’s amazing how quickly you lower your
standards once you become a parent.
Sure you may be used to getting 10 hours of sleep, but after several
months of never sleeping longer than the length of a movie, you’ll feel like a
new person after only half of your previously required sleep time. You’ll also find that showering on a
regular basis becomes an optional activity - just pretend you’re European! Yesterday, while enjoying an all too
rare shower, I realized that I hadn’t shaved my armpits since before my son was
born, which was over two months ago.
I may be a hippie at heart, but I don’t necessarily want to advertise
this while wearing a tank top. And
you can forget about doing the dishes.
While I’ve become rather an expert at loading the dishwasher with one
hand, washing pots and pans is a thing of the past; if it can’t be cooked in
something disposable, I don’t want to eat it.
The thing I’ve discovered is that Motherhood is not exactly
compatible with my Type A, marginally Obsessive Compulsive personality. Sure, I’m an emotional basket case on
the inside, but I prefer to disguise this fact by having everything perfectly
in order on the outside. Thanks to
my kiddo, this is no longer possible.
Not only do I look like a wreck, but my house and car are also
starting to look like I’m a candidate for Hoarders.
Before you have children it’s absolutely impossible to
understand how little time you have to do anything other than care for your
baby. The other day a dear friend
of mine came to visit and asked me, “So, what exactly do you do all day?” There’s no way to explain to someone
who doesn’t have a child how much time and effort goes into just taking care of
the baby. When I’m not feeding the
baby, I’m either burping the baby or changing his diaper or pumping breast milk
so the Hubby can feed the baby so I can sleep for an extra hour or two. On paper that doesn’t sound like a lot,
but believe me when I tell you that this eats up most of the day. If I’m lucky, I’ll actually get a
chance to eat a meal while the Muffin Man takes a nap, but usually I can be
found shoveling in a few bites of food while I breast feed, which inevitably
leads to my kid having a head full of crumbs. There’s a reason everyone gave me pajamas for my
birthday; it’s because I no longer even have a chance to get dressed any
more.
Despite all of the very un-fun parts of Motherhood, I
actually really enjoy it. I’ve
lived such a narcissistic existence for so many years that it’s been a good
change to have to set aside my superficial wants in order to attend to the very
real, very life sustaining needs of another human being. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task,
frankly, but I’ve surprised myself at how quickly I managed to step up to the
plate. Yes, there are some days
where I’ve contemplated leaving my kid unattended in his swing so I could go
have my nails done, and I am a far from perfect Mother, but I’m pretty proud of
myself for the job I’m doing. But
don’t worry; my son will still have plenty to complain about to his therapist
each week.
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