Blogorexia

This blog has been malnourished as of late. I have no real excuse, except that I have felt so busy, and yet so lazy. Mother's Day finally kicked my ass into gear - the need to pay homage to this Hallmark holiday which this year, I greatly appreciate. Maybe it's the fact that I finally don't feel like such a newbie and the mother title finally kind of fits, or the fact that I am well (or should I say, "swell") on my way to #2, and therefore, can't really pretend that I don't own this persona any more.

But it's a constant inner battle. The other day, on a day home with Chloe, I text messaged my husband and asked him if he remembers which sandbox toys were ours. The politics of a sandbox are for a whole other blog post - but suffice it to say you want to be sure you leave with what you came with. My husband wrote in response: "Get back to the office", meaning, how is THIS the crisis of your day. So there's that -- and then there's also the growing joy I experience from just watching Chloe grow. There is something amazing about toddlerhood - the mini-adult attitude, the surges of personality and independance. I had always loved the musy gushyness of infancy, but I am just mesmerized by the impending twos. I am afraid to miss a moment.

I recently read a blog entry written by a newish mother of twins, who is plagued with the crisis of creating balance, of prioritizing herself within motherhood. I do not diminish these struggles, but I have to say, this answer has come easy to me. I actually embrace my place, and it is behind my children. Not in their shadow or even as their crutch, but as their cheerleader, their cultivator, their caretaker. I have this weird theory that we are biologically at our best for motherhood in our twenties and thirties for a reason. Because after two or three decades of me, me, me, the universe says - enough about you! Enough about the size of your jeans and the fun of your nightlife and the indulgence of your whims. It's time to move on, to care about someone else in a way that sometimes even eclipses your own primal needs to sleep or go to the bathroom. It feels good to be selfless for a majority of the day. It's a relief, after so many years of self absorption. I only wish I had more time to coddle and cuddle my husband, who has redefined selflessness in this whole process, and makes every day feel like Mother's Day.

This is not to say that I don't miss sleeping until my eyes open naturally, getting my hair blown straight, long dinner dates and a life without free floating anxiety that at any moment, something terrible can happen. My to-do lists are long and never ending and rarely about me. But to give of myself in this way, even when the returns are uneven, hard to realize or not there at all, has undeniably made me a better person. When time is constrained and I have merely minutes to focus on me, the things I choose to do are priority and necessity. I no longer wonder what is important.

I often laugh at the fact that in my home, nothing material is sacred anymore. My most expensive shoes, the ones I was queasy paying for, are tripped around in by feet that are swathed in GAP socks size 18-24 months. My makeup bag has been ransacked, every item licked and sampled. My jewelry is tugged on to the point of near breakage. My vanity mirror is smudged by someone's loving kisses. When a recent incident forced me to evacuate my apartment in minutes, I ran outside with my purse, my daughter, her stroller, a diaper bag and a sippy cup. I did not remember to put on a bra or even socks. I was less concerned about what I was leaving behind and more concerned with where I would be able to find eggs and bananas, the promised breakfast - while looking like a street urchin. This is my life now - the bare essentials, the unimaginable rewards that can't be bottled or bought. It feels good live so light, even in my heaviest moments.