Who Needs Balance?

Ahh, balance.  I’ve come back to this confounding word, often, as though if I think about it long and hard enough, somehow my life will follow.  I knew becoming a mother would throw my familiar, comfortable, stable life out the window.  And it did.  I knew carving out free time would become a challenge, that I would have to sacrifice certain parts of my life so I would have adequate time to be the kind of mom I knew I wanted to be.

Of course you have high hopes of doing it all after you have kids.  I remember my resistance when people would say to me:  “Oh, you won’t have time for _________ after you have kids” (and then they would let loose a cruel laugh).   Jeez, thanks.

Part of my struggle is my incessant need to create.  This isn’t complicated.  I need to put my ass in the chair and write.  Sure, there are other creative things I like to do, but none of them keeps me up at night the way writing does. 

This sounds simple enough.  If I want to write, then write.  And some days, I do.

Most days I don’t.  And I don’t exercise enough (this is something I like doing).  I don’t give myself a mental break.  I don’t get to spend enough time with Vinny, doing any of the things we love to do.  I don’t.  I don’t.  I don’t.

As a result I find myself hating time because there isn’t enough of it in a day to do all the things not only that I need to do, but that I would really love to do as well.

Then that damn word balance crops up.  Balance.  How do parents balance it all?  Parenting, relationship with partner, household duties, work, friends, hobbies, self-care (I’m sure I’m forgetting other critical things, but you get idea).  Is there a way to do it all? 

I have moments when I tell myself I am being selfish for needing time to write, time to have my creative outlets, time to sit in a quiet room for ten minutes and do nothing.  I can do those things later, right?  I look to the future when the kids will be in school all day and say, “Yes, that is when I will do things.”  I think about how quickly time is passing already and know that I need to have these moments with the kids now, because before I know it they will be in school all day and I won’t get to share so much time with them (this is heartbreaking to me on many levels).

But then I have to stop myself, because I know I am only doing myself a disservice in the long run to deny parts of my life from existence for several more years. 

So, what then?

This parenting thing… it’s a tough gig.  It’s by far the best gig I’ve ever had.  By far.  So there’s that.  But it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  It amazes me how in the span of a day you can have so many highs and lows.  So many tiny joys and so many amazingly frustrating moments… sometimes in the span of a minute.

And then there’s me.  Where do I fit in in all of this?  Will the Stacy I have been survive all this and come out the other side?  I want to be the best parent I can be, but I also don’t want to lose myself in the process.

Balance.  It crops up again.  And again.  And again. 

I haven’t figured it out yet.  It’s like trying to keep ten balls in the air at the same time without one hitting the ground.  How long can you keep that up?

Here’s one thing I’ve started doing: I’ve lowered my expectations.  This sounds easy in theory, but in practice… this one is tough for me.  I expect a lot of myself.  And I’m hard on myself when I’m not, for lack of a better phrase, getting shit done.

Here’s another thing I’ve started doing: I’ve stopped comparing myself to others.  It’s so easy to do.  We all know a parent that makes it look so damn easy.  You know, their house is spotless, you would never know from looking at them that they’ve given birth (usually to at least three kids), they somehow manage to keep up with current affairs, books, the latest restaurant openings, and somehow find time to comb their hair.  Not only have I stopped comparing myself to others, I’ve stopped trying to figure out how those parents juggle all those hats and still manage to be lovely people to be around.  It’s exhausting. 

So in the midst of all this contemplation on balance and my struggle to carve out time to do the things I love, I have given the future of this blog some serious thought.  When things get hectic, it’s often the first thing to fall to the wayside.  This drives me crazy, but it’s not like I have to do this blog.  I’ve thought a lot about not doing it.

The thought of not continuing this little pocket ‘o internet makes me sad.  In fact, in mulling over whether or not to continue on, I’ve come up with some other, exciting-to-me things I would like to add to the site.  This blog is here for others.  Sure, it’s a way for me to put words down, to feel my way through this whole parenting fiasco, to share my frustrations and high-five moments. 

But when I hear from my readers?  Those are the days that stay with me.  For me, it’s all about the connection.  My goal is always to make someone else feel less alone in their journey.  To know they have company through it all.

So, stay tuned readers.  I’m currently scheming up ways to turn this corner of the world into more of a community, because if anything, I would love to hear more from YOU.  To invite more participation, to help each other out not only in our parenting lives, but in our creative lives as well.  To offer more in the way of advice, services, links, etc. 

What would you like to see more of?  Feel free to share your ideas; I’d love to hear them.

Balance?  Who needs it.

The Hesitant Exit Strategy

Well, here we are nine months later. Clearly, updating this blog on a regular basis has not been my forte. The sad part is that I've written entries in the interim and they are sitting on my computer. That is to come, readers.

Before getting to the past and sharing the struggles and triumphs leading up until this moment, how about a current update?

I am pleased to report that Eli is now eleven months old, and yes, I am still breastfeeding. I have begun to supplement as my milk supply has taken a serious dive in the last two months … this may have something to do with the fact that I am pregnant with our second child(!!!). Yes, there will not be much of a break for me or my boobies before diving into this process all over again.

The amazing thing is that if you only read the first entry I've written, and know nothing else of the time between, you might assume that I still hate breastfeeding. And yes, did I ever have a love-hate relationship with it, for a very long time. There are still moments when I resent it, say, on a Saturday morning when my husband doesn't have to work and sleeps in, and I still schlep out of bed before seven to feed Eli. It's tough to never, ever sleep in on any given morning.

But, when I think about the fact that this part of our time together is coming to an end, and that soon Eli and I won't share this special bond, it makes me very emotional. Part of it is pregnancy hormones. One minute I am insanely happy and the next I could bawl. You know, it's like amped up PMS.

I also have an irrational fear that Eli simply won't need me once I am not his "food source." Of course, he's been eating solids and is transitioning away from nearly all of his jarred baby food now. I am not his main food source, nor have I been for some time. Still, if I'm not supplying any of his food, there is a part of me that feels like anyone could care for him and he wouldn't know the difference. Again, irrational. I know this.

What I'm realizing is this: I didn't think it would be so difficult and emotional to stop breastfeeding. I figured I'd be ticking the days off the calendar by now, waiting for my little man to hit that one-year mark so I could begin real cow's milk and slowly finish weaning him. That's still the plan, though things have been accelerated by my lack of supply and his occasional lack of interest in breastfeeding.

In theory this all sounds simple enough, but like so many other aspects of mothering it is more complicated than it appears. And everything, for me at least, also involves so many different and often conflicting emotions. Eleven months ago, when I was struggling, crying, frustrated, on the brink of giving up, it never occurred to me that one day I may not want to stop breastfeeding.

Now, here we are. I realize I could continue breastfeeding beyond the first year. And were I not pregnant, I may have traveled down that road (though I also never want to breastfeed simply because I am having a hard time letting go, either). As it stands, I would like a break between children, a time to "rest" my body before the demands of breastfeeding begin again. I would like to sleep in on a Saturday morning, perhaps just once, before baby #2 makes his or her appearance. This used to make me feel selfish (another, all-to-frequent emotion that bubbles up), but then I remind myself for the thousandth time that once in awhile I need to take care of myself before taking care of everyone else.

Of course, this is easier said than done.