Unwanted exemption
Some funk. And not the welcome kind, the kind that makes you break out in a cold sweat. In no order:
Mother
Wife
Woman
Writer
Entrepreneur
Cook
Vegetarian
Failing grades across the board. And that doesn't even include what I’d like to be — only what I am, at this moment (at 10-12% effectiveness). That doesn't even include able to climb half-flight of stairs without collapsing like a heap of boneless jello.
In a compromise and experiment after two no-meat weeks I ate salmon, the most inoffensive slab I could muster, and now I'm having f*$%ing fish burps and it's totally disgusting. Every foodstuff I attempt to wrestle into supper immediately takes on the properties of rubber, primal goo or post-bomb fallout shelter. I stand in front of the open fridge with a ten-mile stare, watching as good-intentioned packs of tofu grow fur, bereft of mojo. Not that I want meat: I don't. Surprisingly so. I want a personal chef is what I want.
The only words I'm able to string together — all day long — is "Hang on <offspring name>, I'll be right there! Two seconds!" which, come to think of it, is a lie 90% of the time.
This despite Justin still being on paternity leave, and being fully involved, and being from another planet, the planet upon which every man is ten times a normal earth man in competence. Which translates into If-Kate-Cannot-Do-This-And-Stay-Sane- Despite-Co-Parenting-With-a-Saintlike-Alien-She-Can- In-No-Way-Manage-By-Herself.
I drive a MINIVAN.
Ben has become the anti-swinger and doesn't want to be put down, EVER, and he could reduce even the most rabid La Lecher into suckmastic spasms with his bionic barracuda latch. I can fold my nipples into f*&#ing origami. Right now they are flying fu&*$ing canada goose christmas ornaments.
I don't even have time to empty the dishwasher, let alone accomplish anything noteworthy for the rest of my f*&$ing life.
This makes me cranky.
Crankier still because I've got no right, because one of my babies died, and one of my babies lived.
I remember being told in the NICU that it was likely that Liam and Ben may never get the hang of breastfeeding. I remember standing with so much plastic between us, aching to have them scrabbling and pawing at me. And now having lost one of them, and having discovered that the other is quite the cheerful sadist, I am denied license to be exasperated as every other mother. The only response available to me is serenity, or else I'm an ungrateful twit.
And you know what I can't stand? Being so damn predictable, so generic. That I'm writing this post on this blog. This post that every stay-at-home mother-slash-blogger writes at some point: Where did my life go? What have I become? The days and weeks are passing and I'm going to be forty someday and THEN WHAT? I actually know somebody who was a guest on the f*&*ing Oprah Winfrey show, and not for being a shoplifting, gender-bending compulsive hoarder, but for doing something really amazing, and she has a personal brand and TV show and book deal, and she's at least five years younger than me, and I can't even empty the f*&$ing dishwasher.
But instead of spending every stolen moment perfecting fusion energy or selling my screenplay or saving Africa or training for the Olympics I am here, blogging about how I've got no time for outer space or Hollywood or the Congo or Vancouver in 2010.
I feel like this is it: like nothing bigger than this is ever going to happen to me. This is the height of what I'll ever be, within the four walls of this house. And I panic, because I'm not even doing any of 'this' particularly well.
How dare I want more, when I should just be thankful for these two living sons, and this one steadfast husband?
Or maybe it's just the f*&%ing mastitis.
sweetsalty kate
92 Comments
Reader Comments (92)
it might feel typical but it rings truth for us all. i'd imagine no matter how many mountains we climb we'll still fail to see our brilliance. and yet it's there all along.
word to the wise. do yourself a favour, and don't deny yourself license to be as exasperated as every other mother. it's you who doles out that judgement on yourself, no one else, no one who matters. Liam's death brought perspective, and you keep that for life, i think, but not in every moment. same with serenity...it is a good thing. but when it is beyond your grasp, go gentle on yourself. you are coping. you are mothering. you are grieving, and loving and living. the rest? will have its day, in time.
and you will get back outside those four walls, and probably wow us all in Canada Writes next year, and all those things. but being inside the walls, doing THIS year? dude, that's way harder.
I wouldn't dare tell you not to feel it. But if I did I would say, you do not have to love the pains and challenges of each day, you only have to love unconditionally.
I'd be willing to bet money that picking up your life after losing a child is harder than curing cancer. Give yourself a break.
And motherhood is hard. Sounds trite, sounds like troll bait, but there ya go. Most days, I go to bed convinced that I did nothing well in my various roles (i.e. Wife, Mother, Teacher, Farmer, Cook, Small Business Owner).
You are doing an amazing job, Kate. Really and truly.
By the way, LawyerMama's right. I used to work in a lab, trying to cure cancer. Motherhood's way tougher.
Don't deny yourself the licence to complain.
do your babies know you love them?
does your husband know you care...most of the time?
if you answered yes to the above questions, i'm pretty sure you're doing a fabulous job. keep it up.
and if it makes you feel any better, i'm totally in the funk. you should see my house...yikes.
Minivans will come back someday, I swear. They are too campy-cool and fabulously practical to die ... like Dr. Scholl's clogs. I was just thinking about that the other day, I am not even kidding you.
And, if you have accomplished all that you ever will, it's still a damn sight more than most of the world so: rock on, rockstar. Mastitis isn't forever, promise.
Although... you sure your URL's not www.raginghotmamasforsale.com?
#2 - The first three months of having two kids sucks (and that's when #2 is full term - adjust for due dates, etc.). At 3 months he's going to start sleeping better, start entertaining himself a little more, and start needing you a little less. Then it'll get easier when he can sit up. And it will get easier still when he starts to smile. And before you know it you will wonder what you ever did with all your free time when you only had one. Pretty soon those two boys are going to entertain each other, and they'll be up in their room causing trouble, and you'll be all alone in the kitchen wondering where everyone is, and you'll say, "Hey guys, come play with me!" and this will happen sooner than you think.
#3 - My husband is a rocket scientist, and yet he frequently is all thumbs when it comes to the kids. Therefore, motherhood is harder than rocket science.
#4 - THIS TOO SHALL PASS. You are doing important work. Cut yourself some slack. You will find your balance. Your world has been knocked completely out of its normal orbit. It's going to take more than a couple months to get back on track. I think by next summer you'll be in a much better groove. Until then hold on, survive, and do the best you can.
#5 - You'd be surprised how much better you'll do with both of them when you have to do it on your own. I think you need to tell Justin to go away for 8 hours so you can give it a trial run. You'll amaze yourself. My first day alone with my two (brand new, 1 week old baby and a 19 month old, high needs little girl) I had a friend come over and just sit in a chair. I didn't let her help me with anything, I just had her be present. We hardly even talked, really. She was just there. She was my safety net. It took one day for me to build my confidence, and I didn't need her there anymore. You can do it, too. You just haven't had to, yet. My 2nd is 8 months old, now, and other soon-to-be-mothers-of-two are looking at me as an example! Who would've thunk, when I couldn't unload the dishwasher or do ANYTHING.....
This is an obnoxiously long comment. Sorry.
Very poignant words.However, if you try and pull off that serenity one for too very long, you may end up a very crazy twit.let it go. ungrateful?you need to stop worrying about what people (who are these people? i will fuck them up) think. they are not everyone. they are not you.you will handle this.
you are.
No, we can't do everything at this point in our lives, and motherhood is one of those jobs that makes you feel like a failure most of the time. But we're not - we're just way too hard on ourselves.
I'm not sure if this helps you at all, but can I ask a favour? If I have another, when I get to this stage, will you say the same things back to me and help me realize that it doesn't last forever?
A proper response to all your fabulosity and wisdom will follow, once my eyes uncross. In the meantime, housekeeping: how does this design adjustment strike you guys?
With the teensy sans-serif font, I'd been squinting like a frigging apple doll. Thinking this layout and typeface might be easier on the eyes, at least for those of us who used to walk ten miles to school through three feet of snow (uphill, both ways) when we were young.
I don't tend to tweak the look much, so it feels easier to read, but weird. Thoughts?
I've felt the same way, many times. X has happened in my life, I should be grateful. Some people can't have the kids they want-I get the ones I don't want. I want to be writing, travelling, doing something bigger!
But what if, and I'll whisper this so no one hears me, but what if what we're doing, you and I and all of is, what if it IS the bigger thing we should be doing? What if growing people IS our big thing right now?
When I first had two at home, and believe me, the first year with two under 3 I wanted to run screaming into the woods up north and never come back. That first year is in my top ten of suckiest, hardest things I've done, and I didn't even breastfeed. It gets better, like last night, while they flipped through the superstore gift flyer talking about what they want for Xmas, but that first year....it will beat ANYONE to the ground. And you've had so much more to deal with than so many of us.
Motherhood, parenting-it's hard, period. It's not always fab or fun-sometimes it's all about bodily fluids, and how many you can have on you at one time. But it does get easier, and it's made easier by whining, swearing, bitching and moaning. Believe me. I've done all of it. :)
Come to Moncton. I'll buy the latte, and hold Ben so you can browse for books all afternoon, and find a little more Kate than labels. And you can complain all you want. :) I know I do.
Above all-You aren't alone in this, and you ARE entitled to everything you feel.
Let yourself do this vomiting, get it out. You have such big things ahead of you, in your boys, your man, and yes, yourself. You are incredible. And oh my holy hell, mastitis, it would bring down the fiercest warriors.
So here's my advice - drop everything but the essential. Forget the cooking and cleaning - when things get easier, you can pick them up again. Do what you can do and don't feel guilty about the rest.
And essential includes trying to squeeze in a few minutes now and then to nourish yourself, too - physically, emotionally, spiritually, whatever you need.
We all have shitty days, weeks, months. I wouldn't say throw the bad times a parade, but let it do it's thing, which means complain, wallow, rant. Then eat some cookies. (It's *always* about the cookies!)
Hang in there, because it's not going ot go on like this forever. I think you know that, but it feels good to vent, and it's nice, as a reader to know we're not alone either.
And can I just say it's refreshing to see you type swear words and complain and be cranky. The prose is always nice, but it's kinda fun to see you let it all out today and get cranked. Molly is home sick today and so I stayed home from work and I spent the morning cleaning up barf and there's dog hair everywhere and dirty dishes on the counter, and your brother is "working" today and by working I mean he's at a big US Thanksgiving football party at a fancy bar. So, I'll get cranked with you - F*&@%#!!
you are freaking amazing in my books ... truly, freaking amazingly real just like all of us really are ... hugs!
In the last few months you have been through a lot.
Don't feel like because you lost your darling Liam, you are not entitled to all of the other "normal" Mommy feelings.
It is obvious how grateful you are for Ben and Evan....and you are allowed to feel overwhelmed by everything and want to run away sometimes.
Hugs to you, girl.
:-)