On Motherhood (5)

I’m writing this in the in between. The moments are all in between these days.

In between breakfast and dishes

In between playing train and playing ball

In between her asking for privacy and yelling to be wiped

Little fragments of thoughts and feelings

It seems the only time I have time to fully think is at 2, 3, or 4am when sleep stays just out of reach and I’m waiting to be woken by

mama, Mama, MAMA

She needs to sleep better

I know we need to take away the binky, try for nighttime potty training

She needs less artificial light and I need less screen time

We could all use more time outdoors

‘Why is it raining?’ She asks, nearly every day

Because we live in the Netherlands I say

It is Saturday which means my husband isn’t working so he can tag team for rest and play

Someone said ‘oh every day is Saturday to you’ to which I said ‘it’s more like every day is Monday’

Blurring together, sleep deprived and foggy

Laundry, dishes, food- this is the chant of parenthood, every day needing equal amounts of attention to these things. And cleaning, so much cleaning.

Does it sound like I’m bitching? Maybe a little

But this is just reality with small children

There is joy too of course, if you know her you know she is all joy

She is a huge soul with endless persistence and determination. She knows precisely what she wants and needs. She won’t settle for less.

These are all characteristics I know many would squelch in her because believe me when I say they are hard traits to work with in a toddler. But they are HER and it is my job to shepherd her into adulthood, not try to mold her to be easier.

She has remarkable empathy for her age, tearing up whenever one of us tears up, or even to songs I sing or play for her

Her comedic timing is impeccable

I’m so proud of the girl she’s becoming

I’m usually proud of the mother I’m becoming

Not the moments, days or weeks I’ve been frustrated, irritatable

Or overwhelmed

Or touched out.

Who knew that was a thing?

Years of being single and lonely, craving touch even when I became content with my singleness

Compromising for my love language to be satiated

But now little fingers search up and down my arms most of the night

She wants to eat meals in my lap, using my pants as a napkin

She wants me and only me

The ultimate privilege and honor, this role

The cliches are all true

It goes so fast

Enjoy it while it lasts

You’ll miss those chaotic days when they’re gone

There’s no way to act on these

Before I became a mother I did a workshop with a teacher on MOTHER

What does it mean to you?

‘She always listens’ I wrote

‘She’s always present’

‘She’s always kind’

The fantasy of mother

Impossible to be

We weren’t meant to do it alone nor even in a village

We are meant to do it with other mothers

With those who understand

The incessant grief of stages slipping through our fingers

Three years in, still not recognizing my own face in the mirror

Missing my curls, missing lazy days with no to do’s, no thoughts about anyone else at all

No horrifying worries about my heart that is now walking and talking outside of me

The paradox being the longing for another- built in to ensure the survival of the species

Amnesia being the strongest tool

Pregnancy? I was only sick for half of it

Birth? It was only six hours

Breastfeeding with a tongue tie? We did it for 27 months, couldn’t have been that bad

Teething? Nothing to it

Sleep deprivation for years on end? I’m surviving it

‘Does parenting ever get easier?’ A friend asked

I don’t know. I think it gets hard different

I’m a better cook, a better driver, less of a perfectionist now.

I care a lot less what others think

I’m a worse partner and friend

Most days I’m patient with her and less with others.

Some days I’m more angry at no one.

I remember so much less

I respect my body and am learning to love her not just for what she’s given me but for how she continues to show up and adapt.

I know I could have made many easier choices in her infancy. Ones that prioritized convenience and my own needs. I believe my investments will pay off.

‘I gave my sons so much of my qi,’ a healer said to me, ‘maybe I should have kept more for myself.’  Easy to say in retrospect. In the moment I want her to have everything.

I’ve written this in the in betweens throughout the day. She’s finally asleep after many requests for stories and water.

She’ll be three next week. My motherhood is just as new as she is. We’re figuring it out together. Tomorrow is another chance to be more present, to be the mother she deserves.

And I’ll work on grace for my process.