I came home after a long day, in a grumpy, exhausted, pissy mood. MOTH had to go to work, so he handed off the Tank, who I put in the Ergo so that I could take our woefully under-exercised dog for a walk. Said dog was so delighted at the idea of A Walk! O Joy A Walk! that she kept jumping at me and the babe and I was so frazzled that I had to aim a kick at the dishwasher just to let out some frustration, thus greatly (and perhaps rightly) alarming MOTH, who I'd thought was out of earshot.
I leashed the nutbag dog and muttered goodbye to MOTH and stomped around the windy dark for a while. While I walked, I composed a lengthy, venty post in my mind about how hard it is sometimes, how frustrated I get with myself that I can't pull it together enough to be a good mom and a good wife and a good teacher and a good friend and a good dog owner and a good citizen...
Then I came home and, while nursing Tankbaby, read this post from Aunt Becky (found via Submom at the Absence of Alternatives, thanks!) and I shut up. I thought about how lucky, lucky, lucky I am. I have this gorgeous (albeit non-sleeping) baby boy who was born full-term and without any medical issues. I never had to face the NICU, I got to take my baby home after my three-day hospital stay, and we never looked back. Lots and lots of families aren't that lucky.
So I shut up. And I watched my boy crawl around the kitchen, consistently going over to the dog dishes, and I smiled. And I gave him a bath and watched him figure out how to pull to a stand! In the tub! (Um, don't do that, dude.) And I did his nightly massage and I looked at his fat, fat legs with their very first bruises and scratches, courtesy of his new mobility. And I watched him nurse, pulling off every few minutes to give me his gummy grin, to stare deeply and solemnly into my eyes so that I'll lean close and he can bat my glasses off my face, finally falling asleep as I sang Aimee Mann songs to him. And I shut up.
Tomorrow I'm sure I'll find something to bitch about. Tonight I'm going to try to breathe deeply and shut up.
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It really makes you hold your baby that much closer, doesn't it? After reading this, I had to pick up my little guy just so I could hold him a little tighter in my arms, kissing his sweet little head, thankful that I have him.
ReplyDeleteEven if he does poop all over the place. At least we have poop to clean up, ya know?
Thanks for sharing this.
-Jen
One day at a time. It will get better. At least the not sleeping part. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, you guys. I find it darn near impossible to talk about without descending to cliches, but when you watch your baby laugh? It erases soooo much crap. We should send laughing babies to the Middle East, clear up those pesky "generations of religious differences" in no time.
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