In my feelings

2018 is coming to an end. I'm feeling down. I'm feeling drained. I don't know why. Or maybe I do. My daughter Caelin is growing up. There's a gut-wrenching pain as I realize this. Watching her with her Frozen "big girl backpack" and cute outfit and freshly-trimmed hair. She is so beautiful and so perfect to me. She is not mine. She will leave me. I get so frustrated by her and frequently daydream about life without kids -- reading whenever and whatever I want. Watching TV. Not buying anymore empty carbs - no more Goldfish for me to mindlessly eat. Working out. Having a trimmer figure. But I know I am so lucky. I am so here for this moment. I've always wanted this moment. And yet, I'm exhausted. I'm frustrated. I'm bitter. I'm resentful. I'm elated. I'm blissful. I'm so much and so many things.

The housework is still never-ending but I'm making peace with it, I think. We're getting more organized. As a busy mother of two who is married to a man who does not put things away and who does not notice trash that needs to be taken out (like, ever), I really rely on organization and structure. I am not neat. I am not tidy. But if I'm the one who has to make sure kids, mom, dog, dad and now FISH are all surviving and, if we're lucky, thriving (!)  then I better know where things are. Organization saves us time.

The holidays are over. Truly my favorite time of year. Maybe that's another reason for my sadness?

B12 deficiency? Vitamin D deficiency? Post-pregnancy hormones? Who knows. I'm learning to sit in it. Cope. Not ignoring it. Just being.

Had a dream last night about my mom that was so real that I believe it has thrown off my entire morning. I didn't realize why the morning felt so off until I took a moment to reflect and feel my feelings. This morning I've had an unsettling feeling like something is missing. I have been feeling like I'm forgetting something. But now I remember and I can move forward with my day.

On mothering

It never occured to me that perhaps I need to mother myself. I know that I take care of myself, but being mothered is different than being taken care of. I've always thought: "I had a mother and she mothered me so I don't need to look to anyone else for mothering." But maybe she didn't mother me quite the way I needed to be mothered. She was a great mother in lots of ways, but perhaps not completely in the ways each of her children needed and this isn't her fault. I do not blame her and will never hold it against her. Sometimes I feel like I need to defend her still.

And I dreamt about her last night. I was talking to her. And then this morning my daughter said she saw me talking to "grandma." I clarified that it was my mother and she said yes.

And then I asked my daughter if she was ready to eat breakfast.

That's the way things work sometimes. Life goes on.

The Tourist

I am walking through London with headphones on as I listen to "The Tourist" by Radiohead. Do I know what life will bring? 12 years later I will be married with a child. Where will I be?

Thoughts of a different life. A former one. What if. What if there is more. What if this is it.

Happiness is so elusive.

When I am old, what is this all for? I will be there for my daughter. I will retire to help her through this transition that I am currently in. It's hard, but will that make it better?

I am sitting at my desk at work listening to "The Tourist" by Radiohead and I am nostalgic. Life had so much in store from me. Would it have hit me like a ton of bricks had I known? I could have never known.

Lessons for the New Year

Caelin is finally asleep. I had to let her cry it out. She's 22-months old and lately has not been sleeping well. Sleep regression. Who's regressing? She's sound asleep now. Peace . . .

I sit here with laundry that needs to be dried and folded, dishes that need to be put in the dishwasher, rooms and bathrooms that should be cleaned.

My nails should be filed and painted (forget about the toes), my hair should be blow-dried and flat ironed. Oh, I should really get to at least 7000 steps. I'm at 5707. Why don't I get up and walk around the house for 10 minutes. Remember when my body was tight after doing Barre three days a week last summer? What about that? How did I make time for that then? I miss those arms.

By the way, I need to be more creative. Take 15 minutes each day doing something creative. Too tired? Not an excuse. Creativity should be like breathing. No, I cannot watch Mariah's World tonight. Okay, maybe I can, but do I really want to spend $1.99 to watch it on Amazon Prime?

Speaking of money, we aren't saving nearly enough. And we should really pay off the credit cards. We shouldn't carry a balance on those things. What's our plan? Will things always be this way?

Nothing is getting done tonight. I thought about writing about my New Year's Resolutions, but that's not getting done either. 

You see, before I became a mother, I learned a rather tough lesson about trying to control things. Now, my precious time and all the control and order I thought I had is out of the damn window. I had grand plans this past weekend, but Caelin spent the last day of 2016 with a bug and I spent the first (2nd and 3rd . . .) with a bug as well and my plans all went out of the window. I had no choice. No chance at productivity. I was a zombie. 

So now I sit here. I have to return to the grind of work tomorrow and there's a billion things I need/should/oughta do, but I'm not doing any of it. Today I did manage to straighten up a little and run to Target (still feeling like quite the zombie). That's enough.

I'm going to sit here on this couch and let my clothes get wrinkly, leave the dishes in the sink and I'm going to chill the fuck out. I'm going to buy Mariah's World and no one is going to tell me any different.

There's my lesson today. And there's my 15 minutes of creative expression. And no, I am not getting to more than 5807 steps today and that's quite all right with me. 

June. Blues. Roses.

The other day while on a walk with my daughter, I pointed out some roses to her. Oh, right! It's June. Roses. I love roses. I forgot it was June. I forgot about roses. I've been so busy with a new job, long commute, trying to sell our house, trying to spend time with my husband and daughter that I've literally . . .wait for it . . . I've literally failed to stop and smell the roses. 

Oh my god, my life is a cliche.

What is wrong with me? Life is hard. We miss out on things sometimes. I know this. I live this. I breath this awareness of time and yet here I am - not stopping to smell the roses. Well, guess what? This stops now.

It's 3:45 AM and I can't sleep, but I promise that tomorrow I will stop and smell some roses.

Cliches are unbecoming.

Songbird

This morning we woke up to our daughter singing. It's the little things. Miracles. Amazement. It's all true.