I Want to Think It's 'The Good Fight'
Every day, I struggle to maintain a balance between keeping the house clean and playing with the baby. I must've fallen prey to the misconception that being a stay-at-homer means keeping the house spic and span while also being able to cook meals from scratch and raise happy and well-adjusted children. Actually, I'm probably totally to blame for my own high expectations because I've always been a champ at juggling several full-time and high stress occupations at once. Suddenly, though, I feel a lot less capable. And I can't make up my mind about letting the house suffer or pushing the kid to let me get more things done. I know, I know, everyone with kids would remind me that he's only going to be little once and to savor every moment. But to those same parents I would pose this question - are you someone who gets bored being an at-home parent? There are some people who get all kinds of energy out of interacting with others, but I am not one of them, and therefore the daily repetition gets really deadly boring for both of us.
(I am thankful for TV in those moments of utter frustration.)
By all accounts, I love my child. I am finding that loving him means letting my expectations get lower and lower as his need of my energy and attentiveness gets higher and higher. While certain things have gotten easier - I can hook him up with a snack and he'll play happily while I wash dishes - other things have gotten infinitely harder, like taking a shower. These days, I'm lucky if I get to rinse off once a day. A book I read about toddler activities called dinner time "arsenic hour", and my experience definitely relates on that end of the spectrum. I love my child with all my being, and yet I cannot imagine adding a third human being to this crazy mix.
I keep wondering if this will get easier. According to Dr. Sears, things should lighten up a bit around 18 months, and I am quietly hoping this is true for us. I also wonder what I can reasonably expect from my husband after 9 hours at the office and 2 hours commuting. Will things get better when we move, or are we chasing our tails on this issue? I am really looking forward to having a third adult around to help keep Little J occupado, and after that I hope we have a very small apartment and NO STAIRS so that taking the folded laundry to be put away doesn't necessitate an act of god.
As we speak, my house looks like crap. There is food on the floor, as mobile and independent eating is the only way to get food down these days. Toys - EVERYWHERE. The table is a repository of all things not child appropriate. At least the laundry and the kitchen aren't totally out of hand. As always, I hope that tonight will be the night that Little and Big J have a rolicking good time without me so that I can have a moment's peace and possibly a long bath. I can say one really good thing: at least fifteen months of being an at-home-mom hasn't deprived me of my ability to hope.
(I am thankful for TV in those moments of utter frustration.)
By all accounts, I love my child. I am finding that loving him means letting my expectations get lower and lower as his need of my energy and attentiveness gets higher and higher. While certain things have gotten easier - I can hook him up with a snack and he'll play happily while I wash dishes - other things have gotten infinitely harder, like taking a shower. These days, I'm lucky if I get to rinse off once a day. A book I read about toddler activities called dinner time "arsenic hour", and my experience definitely relates on that end of the spectrum. I love my child with all my being, and yet I cannot imagine adding a third human being to this crazy mix.
I keep wondering if this will get easier. According to Dr. Sears, things should lighten up a bit around 18 months, and I am quietly hoping this is true for us. I also wonder what I can reasonably expect from my husband after 9 hours at the office and 2 hours commuting. Will things get better when we move, or are we chasing our tails on this issue? I am really looking forward to having a third adult around to help keep Little J occupado, and after that I hope we have a very small apartment and NO STAIRS so that taking the folded laundry to be put away doesn't necessitate an act of god.
As we speak, my house looks like crap. There is food on the floor, as mobile and independent eating is the only way to get food down these days. Toys - EVERYWHERE. The table is a repository of all things not child appropriate. At least the laundry and the kitchen aren't totally out of hand. As always, I hope that tonight will be the night that Little and Big J have a rolicking good time without me so that I can have a moment's peace and possibly a long bath. I can say one really good thing: at least fifteen months of being an at-home-mom hasn't deprived me of my ability to hope.
