Yet Another Occupation I’m Unsuited For

On this, the 12th week of Tay’s life, I have come to the conclusion that I will never and could never be a full time SAHM.
Barring strange, unforeseen circumstances that would leave me no other choice than to be home all day with my child(ren) on a year round basis.

It’s not that Tay is a particularly difficult baby. Usually as long as he’s fed, clean and rested he’ll happily listen to me sing or show him books or leave him to lie on his play mat. I could have a dream baby who never cried, ate in completely regular increments and took 3 solid naps a day and I still wouldn’t want to permanently have the “tethered” feeling I have right now when I’m home alone all day with the baby. Unless he’s having a particularly fantastic day, I rarely have time to do more than one tiny chore every few hours: a load of diapers here (yes, after some false starts we began cloth diapering), a bit of dishwashing there and I’ve been managing to cook dinner most days although our dinner time falls right around when Tay tends to get hungry or sleepy, so half the time I’m trying to throw a meal together to the tune of cranky baby wails.

I’m not saying that I’m Donna Reed when I’m home all day, but I like to have the option to knock out several chores if I get the urge.
With the baby to care for I simply can’t.

You’ve also probably noticed that my posting has been scarce these past 12 weeks.
And the sad thing is, I’m on the computer more than I’m doing chores since the computer is right next to Tay’s room and the household chore things are mostly 2 floors down. I just don’t have the chunks of time I need to be able to sit and put a decent blog post together.

I greatly admire people who can manage to blog almost every day with a baby at home, but it seems I just can’t.

I’m an easily frustrated person.
My son’s cries upset me, especially when I’m not quite sure what’s bothering him.
I sometimes expect a lot of my husband and when he can’t read my mind and know what I want without me telling him, that frustrates me too.
When I do something stupid or forgetful because I’m tired or distracted, that probably frustrates me most of all.
And all of these things are happening more since Tay came into our lives (especially the crying part…we didn’t have that before, obviously).

To top it off, I like plenty of alone time.
Not to say I don’t also enjoy companionship and company, but I’m perfectly happy being by myself for large portions of the day.
While I realized, in theory, that having a child meant very little alone time for the next 16 years or so, I wasn’t prepared for how desperately I would be craving enough time to read more than 3 pages in a book, or post to my blog, or go have a coffee and write in my notebook.

Don’t get me wrong.
I completely adore my son.
I love singing to him and doing some little finger plays. I love holding him and rocking him to sleep. I love spending time with him and I look forward to teaching him and reading to him and taking him to the park and swimming and the science center and museums.
I admire a person, male or female, who is able to spend the entire day home caring for their baby. I just can’t picture doing it for the next year or two. I’m very pleased that I’ve got to spend the first few months at home getting to know my son. And as it is, as long as I’m on leave, he’ll only be spending a few hours at the daycare each day.

Enough for me to get some shopping done without juggling a diaper bag and a heavy stroller and trying to time the whole thing so Tay doesn’t wake up starving and screaming in the middle of grocery shopping.
Enough for me to have the time to start preparing healthy meals for myself during the day, rather than living off of lunch meat, sugary drinks and cereal bars.
Enough for me to do a few things independently from my child and thus ease the stress I feel building up from time to time when Tay has a hard day and I feel like I’m on an autopilot circuit of feed, nap, diaper, repeat.

I never want to end up being a parent who drops their child off at the daycare at 7 in the morning and picks them up at 6 in the evening. I will always go out of my way to be sure that I remain a full time parent.

Just not one that stays at home.

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The Circle of Life

tmi alert

Yesterday I had my period for the first time in a year.
Quite literally.

My last period was last September, the month before Tay was conceived.
I figured this would happen soon since I stopped breast feeding after we arrived in America at the beginning of the month. I felt all the signs and it was very strange. Kind of like starting up a car that’s been sitting in a garage for a bit too long. Everything in working order, but kind of slow and foreign to me.

And in a way it felt like the true end of the pregnancy. I mean, obviously the baby was the end of the pregnancy, duh, but it was the completion and restart of my body’s cycle I suppose you could say.

One year later and my body is nearly like it was before hosting life.

Give or take 30 pounds and a nearly 3 month old baby.

Don’t even get me started on my 3 month “you’re now officially no longer an infant” post. I have no idea how emotional that one’s going to make me.

2 Months

Two months.

It’s been two months since our son came into the world and there are still days when I wonder what we’ve gotten ourselves into, with this whole procreation thing. I think I spent the whole first month with that feeling you get when you’re babysitting and the parents are running just late enough that you start wondering if they’ll ever be home. And then haha, surprise, you realize again that the parent already is home, dumbass, and dammit it’s still you and you still can’t seem to figure out exactly what it is you’re doing.

Tay got his 2 month vaccinations a little early in preparation for our trip to the U.S. and let me just tell you, as prepared as I thought I was for seeing my baby get stuck with a tiny little needle, I couldn’t help but burst into tears at the look of surprise and then pain when he got his first shot.
For several hours following the shots Tay was very still and very sleepy but then he woke up, looked at me and gave me a huge smile.
I smiled back and blurted out, “Awww, I love you too.”

Which is when I realized I’d had my son for 54 days before I’d even said I loved him out loud.

And just this past 2 weeks or so, I’m seeing him become such a, well, a baby.
A round, pudgy, soft little guy with a big grin and graspy little hands that hold my fingers while he falls asleep.
I see recognition in his face.
I give him comfort when he needs it.
I can tell he feels safe in my arms.

He’s become so much more than the wrinkly, alien little thing that refused to come on his own into the world, and left pain, fever and infection in his wake. He no longer screams inconsolably for reasons I can’t fathom, all the while looking around himself incomprehendingly.

He looks at me adoringly, with smiles or with pouts. I hear meaning in his cries and his squeaks. I no longer feel unsure when I tell him “Mommy’s here” because Mommy is here. It took her 2 months to believe that it was real and to believe in herself and her new role, but she’s here now and there’s nowhere else she’d rather be.

2 months old!