It wasn’t so long ago that I was wildly happy to hold forth on the many virtues, natures, shades, moods, of poo.
Now, if you hadn’t already noticed, my favorite topic is sleep. Deep sleep, shallow sleep, rolling sleep, stationary sleep, sleep positions, sleep locations, sleep accoutrements, sleep schedules, sleep rituals, and on and zzzzzzzzzz….
Last night Jonah slept his five hour stretch from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m. He seems to have edged his bedtime forward of his own accord, which is fine with us. I do like that it’s still within the proper bedtime the book prescribed. (Burn the books, burn the books — yes, I know — but I’m weak, I like the external validation. Hey, at least I’m taking what I like from the books and, so far, glossing over the rest.)
Today he napped from 10-12 (in the bassinet — woo hoo!), 2-3, and 4:15-4:45 (approximately). I’m so pleased and proud. In between he played with his o-ball and rattles. Not sure what I did today. I know in the afternoon I went to the post office, and picked up groceries to deliver to a sick friend, and walked around the neighborhood with Jonah in the stroller to prolong his third nap. But the morning? I have no idea.
Someone somewhere described new motherhood, actually the first 10 years of motherhood, as this kind of tunnel that women emerge from in a daze and then need to find or define themselves again. I can feel that daze now, the way that being a babymom invites me to disappear myself. It’s all consuming, which is fun, and exhausting, and fun again — and also weirdly invisible-izing.
Scott compared being out in the world with Jonah to being in the entourage of a rock star. That too.
I thought by being an older mom, I could be ready to be consumed, because I’ve already done and seen so much in my life. But it turns out it’s still difficult. I miss me. I mean I’m liking this new me, the mom me. But I miss the old me. The writer/actor/traveler/social butterfly/non-mom me.
And on the other hand, it’s too easy. Too easy to stop trying to be and do and achieve, what with such a good excuse and all.
Which is what’s so funny — and lifesaving — about keeping this blog. I’m still a writer, writing. Here, I remember me.
There’s that new Meg Wolitzer book, The Ten-Year Nap. I think it’s about the mommy-tunnel from which one emerges eventually…. And you’re a great writer; that will never change.
Laura H.’s last blog post..Grace
Can’t wait to see the “boo” boy, hearing the cooing and watching the “baby dance” and his new “roll over”.
Oh yes, I still talk plenty about sleep, and things are finally looking up. Sure it took 18 months, but at least now he spends more of the night sleeping even if part of the night it’s in my bed. I will take that and the five hours he sleeps in his crib over the two hour wakings any day. Hang in there.
NoMasNinos’s last blog post..Intimacy Lost
Yes, yes, yes, yes! I completely relate to the “losing yourself” aspect–I still struggle with it and I have been a stay-at-home mom for four years now. My blog is my area to be my “grown up” self, too.
Katie’s last blog post..The Greatest Reward