Christmas Groundhog Day

Where is the motivation? I mean, Christmas is a friggin week away and I haven't wrapped a single thing. I still have two brag books for grandma's to make and a frame and I can't find the time...

I sit down to work on, well, work and...nothing. I can't seem to get my little hinny in gear. I need some pick me up...I need something! I'm Mrs. Christmas too, so this is exceptionally out of character for me. I feel like I'm in one of those made-for-tv-Tori Spelling Christmas movies (shout out to T) where the Christmas spirit has left me and I need to be trapped in a friggin snowglobe where I relive Christmas Eve. (a la Groundhog Day) until I "find the TRUE meaning of Christmas again". If you've got some inspirational words for me, by all means, please cram them down my throat because I need to find the true meaning of Christmas before its too late.

Sincerely,

Lethargic in MA

My quest for me.

Hi, my name is Michelle and I am a blogging (*gulp*) virgin.

(Hi Michelle, welcome)

I am a new mom to Owen-this deep fried turkey on Thanksgiving, smores by the bonfire, sleeping in late, wrapping up in a warm blanket (fresh from the dryer, of course), walking barefoot in the grass, 13th b-day party at skate depot (these are just a few of my favoritest things)tiny, perfect little thing. You know if must be love when at 3am, after only being asleep for about an hour, he wakes up. Your heart sinks because you don't know if it'll take 5mins. or 3hrs. to get him back to sleep and you are so tired you whine to your husband like you are 16 again and your parents won't let you stay out after curfew. You stumble down the stairs, kicking the cat as you go becuase he's the devil, turn the doorknob, peek into the crib, stumble for the light because the hall light ain't cuttin it, and all you see is this face looking up you. This face. I look around to see if there is ooze protruding from my body because my heart has literally just melted. Then it happens. He smiles. Forget it, I'm done. He could reach up and rip my eyes out of their still sleepy sockets and I would still be smiling, because that's just what it does to you.

Who knew, right?

You hear stories from other moms of how their lives are forever changed and blah, blah, blah. You can't for the life of you figure out why they can't stop rambling on, and on, and on about their babies first incoherant babblings and how it "almost" sounded like Mama. You have no freaking clue until it happens to you. Then *smack* once you deliever that child, your heart literally walks outside of your body (I use the term "walks" lightly, at least not for the first 9-12mos anyways). It's like falling in love, but love at first sight, and more than love. It's like no feelings you've ever felt. You love your husband, sure, even passionately, yes, but nothing like this. Nothing phases you, poop, spit-up, snot...you name it and you'll be covered in one, or more of these toppings at some point in time. But you just don't care. You see that smile, that perfect little smile, and the whole world can crumble around you, just as long as he's smiling, it just doesn't matter.

That having been said...

I have found that in the process of transforming into a mom, you can easily lose yourself. Your-self, you know, that person that it took you 28yrs. to become. Well hold on to your panties, after 28yrs. of morphing into this self, it only takes about 22hrs. of labor (give or take a few) to lose it. Your days are not yours. Your body is not yours. Your nights are DEFINITELY not yours. But again, you don't care. Your mission, if you choose to accept it (which, by delivering, you already have) is to take care of that baby.

But somewhere around his 4mth b-day, things begin to change. I was just beginning to understand my child. To know his cries, when he's wet, that he doesn't want grandma to hold him (ta-hee-hee). But we weren't totally in tune yet. I was still apprehensive. The slightest thing would spiral me into this emotional roller coaster, whether it be he wasn't eating enough, I wasn't producing enough milk, he wasn't gaining enough weight, not sleeping, screaming in agony because he's teething, whatever. I start to lose control. I felt that there wasn't enough time in the day to take care of the peanut, clean (HA!), cook meals, work, build that ark I'd been meaning to get to, let alone have time for me. Then the crying started. I didn't share any of my pent up emotions with my husband, friends, family, anyone, for fear they would look at me like a lunatic because this is what I was supposed to do I'm a mom. My life is to take care of others. Eventually, well, we all know what happens when we hold things in. *Kaboom*. There I sit, desparately rocking my son to sleep at 6am (after having been up for the last 4hrs) sobbing uncontrollably. I can't do anything right, I'm a failure as a mother, as a wife and as a woman. Then my husband walks in the door. My night in shining security uniform. He scoops up my son, who, of course falls asleep instantly for him, and we proceed to talk. And talk. And talk. I tell him my doubts, my inablilities as a mother, as a wife, as a woman, and the funniest thing happens. He takes over. All of this time, I've felt that everything has fallen on my shoulders. I have happily accepted it, never once asking for help, but I've now found that my shoulders can't bear any more. At least for now. We make an arrangement that he'll watch my beautiful son when he gets home in the morning and I'll sleep in. Sleep in. Those foreign words roll off my tongue...I've missed my old friend sleep. Mind you sleeping in now consists of getting 5-6hrs. of broken sleep, but it beats 3-4hrs. But it does the trick. I can think, I can function, I can organize my day. I slowly awake from the robot-like coma of feedings, diapers, non-sleep I've been in for the last 4mths and start to feel something.

Now that I have a clear head, I start to realize somethings changing. Not the weather, or the aisles at the supermarket, or the space-time continuim, but me. What was making me the most despressed was not my sons inability to sleep, or the Mt. Everestt-esq sized mound of laundry, but the fact that I had lost something. Me. I love taking care of my son. I love taking care of my home. I even don't mind working (can't say that I love it though). But I miss me. I know things will never, ever be the same again, but I don't want them to be. I wouldn't trade anything in my life now for the way it was, but I needed to find me again. That creative, wacky, spitfire of a girl that has been dormant for 4mths. So my quest for me has begun.

Owen is now going to bed around 6:30/7p which leaves me 3-5hrs to do, well, anything I want. (Usually 5hrs. though, because of all this new found time, I can't seem to go to bed before midnight-argh). So I alternate. Sometimes I work (blah). Sometimes I clean. And SOMETIMES I do me things (hooray!)...scrapbook, rearrange our furniture, go shopping online, read a book, whatever! It's been the most liberating thing I think I've ever done. It's the simple things folks. If having a child has taught me anything, it's how to not take 15mins. for granted. In more ways than one. 15mins. of playing with him can make my entire day, and 15mins. for me can clear my soul.

On that note, I will leave you. I promise not all posts will be the novella that my first one is...but I can't promise that this will be my last one. I likey this blogging thing. Until next time...