Premamama

Did you know that most public school playgrounds now have signs that say “No Running”. I kid you not. I have also seen “No Playing Tag”. Honestly. Do you remember recess? All that insane energy after sitting at a desk for hours. You race out the door screaming and don’t stop until the bell rings. What do poor children do on the playground now? Sit and talk? I can’t stand this fear-based parenting we have created. Like on TV where the mother follows her toddler around the livingroom wiping everything down with an anti-bacterial wipe every time he touches it. What have we created – kids who aren’t allowed to run at school and then who are diagnosed with Hyperactivity Disorder (this is not to take away from those who genuinely have it), and anti-bacterial everything and kids who have allergies and auto-immune issues because their immune systems are so underused. All these things have value in small amounts. But let’s remember the joy of not worrying every second, of being ok with a skinned knee, even a stitch (I say casually, though I will be in a fit the first time my child needs one), a bad cold caught from a friend, a bug eaten. Let’s let our children run and get muddy and eat that peck of dirt!

6:15am. Spent half the night nursing my 7 month old, the other half sleeping on the floor of my 2 1/2 year old’s room (his father slept there the other half), as my son is suddenly scared of things – the dark, and birds apparently topping the list. The little robins and sparrows in our suburban backyard. Interesting choice. I guess stemming from when a bird flew into a window last summer and was hurt. We brought him inside and put him in a box and when I opened the lid an hour later to see if he was alive, he flew out and we had to chase him around our livingroom for a while before shooing him out the back door. these little brains are so wild. Not a word about that in almost a year, now it pops out as a major fear. “Scared of dat bird goes tweet, tweet” he kept saying last night “dat bird got owey”. So tired but come on, that is so cute. how can we not sleep on his floor when he is genuinesly scared of little birds. One day this will be a hulking 6 foot man. Did I mention how tired I am? But still, I will remember this when he’s 16 and rolling his eyes at me. I held you while you slept because you were scared of dat bird, tweet, tweet.

Hi there. I’m a new blogger mom. This seems like a great way to reach out and connect with other moms in the 2 minutes I have at the end of the day before I fall asleep standing up at the kitchen sink. I have two young boys – 7 months and 2 1/2 years. I love them more than I ever knew possible. And I feel like a bad mom. I know I’m not really a bad mom, but still I can’t stop feeling this way. Because on the inside I feel like I should be enjoying this more. I was the mom who felt surrounded by love and magic and wonder after my first son. Exhausted, totally shocked at the change in my life, but still so thrilled and proud and amazed. It’s just since my second child was born that I feel like I’m loosing it. My second son has had lots of digestive problems and I have not slept in 7 months. That’s part of it.

I just got an email tonight from a friend who just had her second child and wrote “having a ball with 2 kids!”. Having a ball? Really? Why am I not having a ball? I’m really not. I love them more than life. They crack me up, we sing, we dance, we do projects, we read, we run around the park. But I really am not having a ball. And I feel like this makes me a bad mom on the inside. I should be enjoying this more. I always wanted kids, I waited a long time (first child at 37!) but I am just so tired, so busy every second of my day. I started to think maybe I have post-partum depression. Maybe I do. But I realized I think there is another way of looking at it – at this struggle. I think some of post-partum depression, at least for me, is grieving. After my first son I could still at least pretend to be partly the person I was – I could strap on the Bjorn and go the Barnes and Noble, get a coffee, read books on travel. Or whatever I do that makes me feel me. With 2 kids, I can barely get to the store for milk. I think I am grieving my old self because I really get now that she is gone. I love this new life, but I loved that other, carefree, world-traveling person too, and she’s gone and I get now that she isn’t coming back. By the time my boys are at all grown up, I’ll be in my mid-40s. And I’ll be a different person. Which is beautiful. But that other person is who I feel I still am and she is gone. And so is her body! I had a hot body, if I do say so, and now I have old lady swinging boobs and a belly that folds over when I sit. She’s just gone that pre-baby woman and I think I am grieving that. As much as I am loving having children and would never want to go back. So this is today’s thought: I wish I were having a ball. Instead I think I am grieving my old self. There is something healthy in it I think. It’s real anyway. And it probably makes room for the new person to be. And now…off for 43 minutes of sleep until someone wakes up!