Gloriously Imperfect

Hi there! I've been away for a while, I know. I'll admit it: I've been scared. And overwhelmed. I feel like I'm in a rut. I don't know which way I'm going, I don't know why I should bother writing, I'm afraid I'll have to go back to a desk job soon... All of these negative thoughts are just eating away at me, and when I know this blog is still in its infancy it's just so easy to say "Who cares? No one will notice if I don't write for a month." Really, while this blog is in its infancy I should be cranking out a minimum of 2 posts per week and doing everything I can to gain more readers. But I'm tired! And I feel like there's no point. I don't mean that to sound ungrateful to the readers I do have, but while I appreciate the loyal friends and family who pay attention to my tiny corner of the interwebs, I have no grand delusions about the size of my current audience.

I started this blog to share my normalcy with everyone; to celebrate when I accomplish something of which I can be proud; to share fun little projects or recipes I've created or tried, life hacks or products that have made my days easier; but mostly to show other new parents that it's OK to not be perfect. You could say my mission is "to illuminate the glorious imperfections of parenting." Allow me to illuminate my current imperfections for you now.

I'm just so overwhelmed at present. I feel kind of miserable (not every minute of the day, but often), like my whole life is off track. I wanted this baby so very badly, and I still do, of course. It's just mind boggling to me that I could have wanted her so badly, that I could love her so incredibly much, and still somehow find I have less and less patience for her whining and screaming than I did at 3 months. Does that make me a bad parent? This is all I wanted. This is all I've ever wanted: to stay home and raise a baby! So why does it feel so completely dissatisfying at times? At almost 10 months postpartum I've finally had thoughts of going back to work, for no other reason than to get a daily break from my sweet, whining baby. But then I get terrified about having to report to a job on time, because it takes me 3 hours to get anywhere these days. (Literally, it took me 3 hours to get to a play date today.) Aside from that, I'm virtually useless because I'm so sleep deprived I can hardly keep my eyes open. So I go to bed early, and then Scoops wakes up multiple times during the night (Teething? Growth spurt? Who gives a rip? It all translates to less sleep) and I feel more exhausted the next day than I did when I was staying up until midnight trying to get shit done. Besides, I don't really want to go back to a "real job" anyway, because in my heart of hearts I know I want to stay with Scoops all day. But then she's trying to pick that little mole I didn't even know I had off my neck again while she's supposed to be nursing, and I swear I just need a friggin' break!

This is the constant cycle of my thoughts these days. I love love LOVE my sweet baby girl to the ends of the Earth, but when her naps last exactly long enough for me pee and wash up her mess from whatever meal she had immediately prior to naptime, and then do it all over again, I start to feel frustrated. I feel mundane, and I feel like if my life is so routine and mundane, then why do I seem incapable of mastering an actual routine? I literally can't remember the last time I cleaned my floors, and I'd really love to clean my floors (especially since the dog just yacked next to my feet, probably from eating all the bits of food Scoops has been throwing at him). But it's not really fair to try to remember something that goes back possibly longer than 2 weeks in time, because I can't even remember what I wore today. If I had the available brain cells to count right now, I'd be able to count on less than one hand the number of times Scoops has slept through the night in the past 2 months. This is especially drastic considering that she started sleeping through the night at 4 months, and seemed to be on a trend toward making that a regular habit. Apparently appropriate to her age (Babycenter? Mom365? Kellymom? I can't remember where I read this tidbit), she is now back to "sleeping like a newborn," which has me feeling constantly exhausted, to put it lightly.

I don't mean to sound like I'm complaining. I'm not complaining. Maybe I am, I don't actually know. I think I'm just putting out there to the mom-verse that I'm having a really weak moment right now. "Right now" here having the meaning of the past hmmmmmm 6 weeks at least. And I'm hoping I'm not alone in this. And I'm hoping that someday I'll get to the other side of this with relative clarity and be able to write about what wonderful, gilded lessons I learned during this time about raising a child. Maybe I'll be able to offer hope to the next troubled mom (or dad). Right now, I'm just wallowing. Or something like that. Right now, I am basking in the glorious imperfections of parenting, and I have to be honest: it doesn't feel much like basking, and it doesn't feel anything close to glorious. If you're here with me, I love you, and I'm sending you all the comforting hugs I wish I could give myself right now. In fact, the least I can do for myself is refuse to believe I'm alone in this. So I won't. I know you're out there, sister-mamas, and I will comfort myself in the knowledge that I'm walking the path of our foremothers, and I'm walking it alongside you. We're in this together. Let's hit the park, or the pool, or shoot, the grocery store, I don't care. But let's get out of the house, sans makeup and in our sweats if we have to, so we can get a breath of (relatively) fresh air and support each other in our journeys.

And now, with a big THANK YOU to my mama friends who've figuratively met me where I'm at, and literally met me at the park and the pool, I bid you all good-night and wish you a restful and restorative evening. I'm going to bed. It is midnight again, after all.