Nick was saying last night how people probably think the exact opposite of what I think they think about me. My parents probably couldn’t be prouder of me now. I mean, I was a stripper. Look at me now. Married to a great guy with a job and I’m a mom. I’m finally living on the straight and narrow, or is it straight as an arrow?
Earlier today I walked along the choppy sidewalk, eyes glazed over. And it hit me. I am a zombie mommy. Would that be a zommy or mombie?
I am the living dead. A mommy who has lost herself. Sure, I have moments when I have me, but increasingly I find myself depressed, missing from life and unable to really enjoy my daughter.
If what everybody is saying to me is true, “Enjoy this age. It goes by so fast.” Why am I missing out on the joy?
Or is the reason people give this advice because they felt the same way I did when entrenched in the day-to-day of baby caring, but now, looking back, they wish they had savored it because it’s gone.
But then, what is there to savor? Nick enjoys watching her discover and learn, even when it’s through emptying out a jumbo size box of Band-Aids from Costco.
I have such a hard time letting chaos reign. I’ve spent my life trying to control chaos, so I find it difficult now to just let it happen and see it as education for the baby. I feel a need to put away all those Band-Aids right away. And when Genny grabs something and cruns away with it, like her doll’s plastic pink fork, I have to chase after her and grab the aforementioned stolen object and return it to it’s room of departure.
Why have I chosen this time of my life to get neurotic about cleanliness? I couldn’t wait until Genny goes to college? I think it has more to do with the letting go of how things were pre-baby. I may have to get used to the fact that life will never be the same. I’m going to be running around for the next eighteen years at least. There’s no slowing down for a while. Unless I get better at making the time.
Remember to make time for Mommy.