In life, I did not always know where I was going but I had an enormous amount of hope. Hope that I would get my act together. Hope that I would stumble into a career of my dreams. Hope that I would find someone who loves me and I love in return. Hope that everything would come together after immigrating to England. Hope that my story would eventually wind up “having it all”.
What is having it all?
A loving and stable relationship? Amazing sex life? Career you love? Financial stability? Home of your own? Regular explorations from travel? An adorable pet? Healthy, beautiful family? Feeling like a valuable part of your community? Having a close knit community of love surrounding you?
Basically an enviable Instagram Worthy kind of life?
I spend a lot of time scrolling through other parental blogs - looking for….. something. Anything to tell me, “hey you are doing okay” or more likely “here is a detailed step-by-step guide on how I have it all and you can too.”
Nothing has yet squelched this need I have. It is a very needy need.
I want the career that gives satisfaction.
I want the comradery of lovely work colleagues.
I want the time with my child before she starts school.
I want the time with my partner, away from child doing grown up stuff.
I want the time with our families, to watch our relatives grow and change.
I want the time with myself to be creative, think of things and act upon them.
I want to be the best mother, provider, friend, colleague, relative, pet owner, and human being I can possibly be.
And until I am all those things, this needy little drive inside of “do better, be stronger, work harder, plan more, try again, not good enough, more-more-MORE!”
Now I feel guilty for being a whingemaster 3000 and listing all those “I wants”.
So now I'm off to scour haircuts/clothes/items (for a serotonin boast) that inevitably I will never get (for guilt reasons, food before fancies).
Distractions are everywhere - hey, what was that post a few months ago with the tag #parentinglikeaboss that I did? It seemed to be the answer to the conundrum we all find ourselves in this day and age. So I will say nothing more about it and instead talk of flindripingal doolaylays and their bomusical frinkdringers. Did it work? Did you “look over there”?
Distractions, distractions everywhere, not a spot to think. Heck, even now I am listening in on my nephew discussing how noisy it is at night between four adults, himself and a toddler staying in a small two bedroom flat all together, instead of focusing on this task at hand. It is a welcome distraction from Peaches and I’s everyday routine.
Usually I am looking for distractions, anything, to make it through our long days. (Hard to raise a child to be able to deal with boredom when I am not leading by example). Planning, waiting and working towards the weekends of togetherness. BLINK! They go so fast, and there we are again finding our daily distractions.
It is how my sanity stays in tact being a SAHM, brief respite from the continuous touching/demanding/yelling/preventing/figuring that come from being ‘on duty’. (There is no real ‘off duty’ for parents without family/help readily available). A stroll through instagram, a twirl through twitter or flipping through facebook. These are my distractions, all being found in the palm of my hand at will.
They must be sacred.
Or so it must seem to my daughter, as a lot of our distractions is me hiding/removing my devices out of her grasps. (She may have XRay vision because she always finds them).
This blog is also my distraction and I have now put off getting dressed for an hour, thank devices.
This past week I took a day, well an afternoon, for myself. As I sat waiting for my lunch in the crowded Wagamama’s off Leicester Square, these are some of the my thoughts.
So nervous to just leave the house. M had to practically force me out. I need a push sometimes. I get into these isolated ruts - that the introvert in me sinks into a comfort its always known. Yet the extrovert screams and shakes inty - pushing me deeper into hermit’s shell.
I walk through London - an old friend. Mosey-ing the frequently taken paths. Watching this time. Observing the people around. Remembering how I used to rush and push through the crowd. My agendas, my purposes above others. Feeling exhausted but smug - “if others only knew. They’d be well jealous.” What a prick. An ambitious prick. It did me no good. To travel to that time, place a well meaning hand on her broad shoulders. “There’s more. Enjoy. And don’t let the egos grinds you. We’re all little babies. Be nice. Be proud".
Only moments ago and moments to go. On the train a little girl sang and I ached for your sticky, grabby clutches of those chubby arms. (Really? So soon?) Always I have put you at the center of my everything. So, how do I move ahead. I still don’t know what I want to be.
This was the first time I had gone into London by myself before Peaches came along. There was a lot of emotions that passed through me in a very short duration. But mostly, I felt lost. Lost time traveling to past moments, choices I made and ignored. Lost in the purposeful rush of the crowd. Lost with myself. This is what happens when you do not make regular time for oneself.
I’d like to tell you that I had a moment of clarity. Not really. I just ended up following random people and mimicking their style of walking.
Because I am a lost, lonely child, playing the role of a mother.
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.