A frolic in the ocean

Billy said this to me tonight and I laughed so hard, wine almost came out my nose.  I mean, frolic?  Who says that besides pretentious Englishmen talking about their holiday on the coast?  He was explaining to me how hard it was to learn how to boogey board and how that experience made him kind of afraid of the ocean.  His harrowing experience made me think about my 2-week-long stint as a full-time, 14-hour-a-day, stay-at-home mom while he was attending his orientation classes at Wash U.  And it was just like being tossed and turned over in a great big wave of water, not knowing where was up and when I was, if I was, going to get to the top to take a breath.  Yes, folks, it sounds overdramatic, but let me just say this: being a stay-at-home mom (or SAHM in mommy blog parlance) is no effing frolic in the ocean.

I've been lucky enough to have had a ton of help with Desmond: 2 very wonderful and competent nannies, Grandparents living nearby (well now not so nearby), and Billy having a job that allowed him the flexibility to go in late (so that I could catch a few hours of sleep undisturbed in the morning).  Plus,  I enjoyed the relative flexibility of being a part-time student (which made me a part-time stay-at-home mom, or SAHM for short).  For the first 5.5 months of Des's life, I would spend 8-10 hours with him during the day.  Those were dark times, my friends.  I had no energy to put him in the sling and take him places.  Oprah and Ellen were my dear friends during the day and any hours not spent trying to nurse, change, or placate Desmond were spent watching TV (watched every conceivable episode of CSI) and doing homework.  Looking back, I should have sucked it up and spent my time outside...at a park, walking around, etc.  But seriously, when it's all you could do to change your underwear that day, getting out the front door alone as a first-time mom with a bitty newborn is more than my mind could handle.

Sometimes I need a little help to get through the day.  Somedays, it takes the form of drinkable yogurt (mmmm...Kefir), others it's Burnt Caramel Rooibos tea with 2 ginger cookies.  And some days you just gotta throw your hands up in the air and have a nice glass of red wine.  

When Maria, our old nanny, came into our lives, it took such a weight off of my shoulders.  She adroitly took Desmond from my arms and, for the next 6 months, took such expert care of him.  I was now able to do stuff without having Desmond on my hip constantly needing my attention.  I know that it's not kosher to say these sorts of things out loud, and I sometimes admonish the hell out of myself when I think about all the time that other people got to spend with Desmond that I didn't, and I'd imagine how awful I'd feel if something were to happen to him and I could've spent more time with him, but truthfully, that time to myself helped to balance me.  I came back so refreshed and wanting to see Desmond and spend time with him.  I really do believe that I'm a better mother because of the time I get to myself each day.  I try to fill that time with productive (for me) things, such as working on my dissertation, doing yoga, going for a run (a 1-miler), reading a book...even taking a long shower.  But I try not to fill it with cleaning my house.  Spending valuable non-Desmond time cleaning my house is equal to spending time with a screeching Desmond: unforgivable.

I mean, look at this face.  Who can deny spending time with him?

But then some days I feel like putting this picture on an ad in Craigslist.

For two weeks when we just moved to St. Louis, while Billy was embroiled deep into his orientation to Business school, I spent 14 or so waking hours alone with Desmond.  In a city I didn't know, in a house I didn't feel quite comfortable in, with a baby that demanded all of my attention.  It was my first foray into full-time SAHMhood.  I HATED it.  Every second.  Waking up every morning was the worst part of my day.  I couldn't comprehend how other women did it...how other women chose to do it.  I felt, again, like a failure.  Except this time, I knew I was one.  How could I dislike being around my son so much?  I came to realize that I had a huge mental and emotional block.  I had been spoiled and now was doing what I should have been capable of doing.  Why wasn't it working?  Why wasn't I able to go through the entire day with my son?  I think I had viewed spending time with Desmond as like a duty, so when I had to do it, I couldn't enjoy it.  I viewed his wanting my attention as an intrusion to what was supposed to be my time.  It wasn't until the very end that I finally realized that I could just sit back and let the interaction happen naturally.  I realized that I had to make sure that I fit my life into Desmond instead of making Desmond fit into mine.

Sitting back...

Letting him figure it out...

and having a great time.

Letting him run around...

and play while I sit back and take it all in.  And laugh at how much his stomach looks exactly like my dad's gut. 

It all clicked.  and I became a better, more present, more patient mother.  Now, I'm lucky enough to have a nanny come for 4 hours a day, 4 days a week, but whatever time I have left with Desmond that day is spent enjoying him, figuring out what he's babbling to me about, and getting him like nobody else gets him.  Props to all the mothers and fathers out there staying at home full time to raise their children.  For the short time that I have had to do it, it has definitely been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.  Birth was easier in retrospect (even before the epidural).  It's no frolic in the ocean, but once you learn how to manage and swim through the waves, it can be the sweetest, most beautiful place in the world.

(are your teeth hurting yet?)