7.12.07
In this crazy life, and through these crazy times. . .
On the way home from the gym today, as Leila blew bubbles and made happy noises in the backseat, I couldnt stop crying. The tears rolled down my face and when I pulled into the driveway, I put my head in my hands and sobbed.
She is sleeping now, sighed as I laid her into her crib and pulled her favourite blanket over her. And I think to myself, how can I be there for her, how can I do this if some days I just want to be anywhere but here?
Steve recognizes these moods as they come, knows not to complain about the dishes in the sink, the dog fur in the corners, but he asks me whats wrong, why I am so mopey, so down, so drained. So I tell him that it was a long day, that Leilas molars are coming in, or that she was especially clingy, that the humidity bothers me, and then I leave to go read under the fan in our bedroom while he plays video games downstairs. He told me this morning to snap out of it, that it drags him down too. And the words to describe how I feel get caught in my throat. Partially because I want to ignore these feelings, and partially because I do not think he could ever understand.
But what kind of mother dreams about being anywhere but here? And then I think of my girl sleeping in her pink striped rompers, so sweet and innocent, sucking on her blanket and I crumble into sobs again because how dare I ever want to leave her? What if her first memory is her mother sobbing over the steering wheel for no reason at all?
Yesterday was muggy and long and she is teething and whiny and wants to be on my lap or in my arms all the time, and we were stuck in the house because I lost my keys and it completely drained me. So much so that two hours alone in my room last night and a long sleep did not quite recharge me. She needs so much, and I feel so fucking guilty that sometimes I resent her that. I wonder how I can be expected to have anything left for myself at the end of the day, and when I tell Steve that I barely get any me time, he reminds me that I go to the gym in the mornings. That is what I mean by does not get it. I told him I felt isolated, he asked why because we hang out with friends on the weekends. As Leila clamoured all over him last night after supper, I mentioned how draining I found it, when she will not go anywhere we are not. He does not feel that way.
I feel a little better already, just writing these thoughts down. Although my mom warned me that my privacy flew out the window the day I got pregnant, no one ever, really, told me how utterly exhausting it truly is. Motherhood is this constant roller coaster of emotions, fears, joys, triumphs, and let downs. I do not want to be that frazzled mother who yells at her kids in the grocery store, and yet this morning I thanked my lucky stars that Leila likes Curious George and plunked her in front of the tv while I got ready for the gym.
So I will plod on, through this grey, rainy day, and try not to get too overwhelmed by the little things. I guess this is how you get through, one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, through molars and through arguments about the dishes. One hour at a time.
wunderwuman at 10:26 a.m.