I Love You, Nap

This morning has been extra difficult. Baby needed to be held often, and the older one was a tad more clingy, too. Two noses had to be wiped periodically, nails had to be clipped, diapers changed continuously.

Then baby fell asleep, his first nap of the day, and I tried to go upstairs to the room to put him down. But, lo and behold, big brother blocked the stairs and tried to push me down – he didn’t want me to bring baby upstairs. I convinced him to come up with me and the little one, but he decided he didn’t want to be quiet, waking up the baby as soon as I put him down.

That made me snap at him, making him cry, waking baby more. So much for nap time.
Thankfully, baby finally napped longer an hour after that, allowing me to go to the bathroom and prepare our lunch. After a quick meal, baby woke up. Soon after, it was big brother’s time to nap, so we all headed upstairs till he went down.

The little guy kept playing downstairs for a bit, then it was also time for his nap.

And then there was peace.

I decided not to do any chores or clean up – I just wanted some rest. It felt like I’ve spread myself too thinly today, because they both needed me so much at the same time.

In a few minutes, one (or two) of them will be waking up, and chaos will begin again. The kitchen is a mess, there’s laundry that needs to be done, and I haven’t even thought of what we’ll have for dinner.

But that’s ok. I’m still enjoying this quiet time.

I get to recharge a little, watching TV while eating a banana pancake with nutella, and writing on this blog. This should be enough to get me through a few more hours until yoga tonight, when hubby will be watching them both.

Yay for naps!

Tug of War

I’ve been a fulltime mom for almost two years – since the day my baby was born. And I’ve finally figured out why this job isn’t exactly giving me the fulfillment I was expecting it to.

It’s not only because I keep working even after 5pm, on weekends and holidays. Or because I don’t earn money for my own shopping sprees. Or because I don’t get to talk with fellow adults about last night’s TV show during lunch.

It’s also because it doesn’t have a performance review. No concrete appreciation for a job well done. No grades, awards or medals.

All my life, I’ve been used to reaping tangible rewards. With good grades came medals and certificates; with good job performance came raises, promotions, pats on the back from bosses and colleagues whose life I helped make a little easier.

This time, I don’t get rewarded for x number of diapers changed, or a token of appreciation for staying up all night to put my baby back to sleep. I don’t get anything back for keeping it together while my toddler throws an ear-piercing tantrum, or any pat on the back for efficient use of my time, like getting laundry and dinner done even while baby is awake.

The “rewarding feeling” I’ve heard about countless times comes in fleeting moments: when he gives me a kiss; when he runs to me squealing in delight in anticipation of a bunch of tickles; when he shows me a new dance move or says a new word.

More often than not, though, I feel worn-out by cleaning up after every mess, trying to wrestle with him during a messy diaper change and just being “on” until he falls asleep at night.

Don’t get me wrong - I do love being a mom to this sweet little boy, and knowing that I am very lucky to have the choice of staying home to raise my own kid is something I’m always grateful for. I’m amazed watching him grow from a tiny, helpless baby to a funny yet gentle little kid. He’s only little once, and I love how I can be there to comfort every owie and be the mom.

And though I know that the best people to care for and raise a child are his own parents, the parents should be happy and content to actually give the best care. A fulfilled woman makes for a better mom. But this mom has just realized that fulfillment for her includes going back to work, mingling with other adults and earning money. And getting a good performance review or nice revenues from a business I can run.

So now, these thoughts are playing tug-of-war in my head. And judging by my true feelings, I think some form of work will win.

Maybe I could work part-time, or seriously take action on one of the many business ideas we’ve been sitting on for years. It might be the best thing I can do for me, and more importantly, for Milo. Then I could have the best of both worlds: being mom, and being me.

Bad Mommy

If a child development or parenting expert would rate my parenting skills, I’m pretty sure I’d score way below what I aspired to get before I became a mom. Here are just a few of my many oh-no moments:

• There have been days when my son has been in the same diaper in 6 hours. Thank goodness for diaper creams to combat diaper rash.
• I sometimes forget to wash his hands before bed, even if he’s used them to eat his dinner (I do wipe him after dinner).
• I use the “5 second rule” for food that’s fallen on our floor at home, but I’ve given up running to stop him from eating food he found on the floor that’s been there for a day (I swear I didn’t see the cheerios).
• His high chair sometimes spends a couple days or more without being wiped or disinfected.
• I haven’t cleaned his strollers or his car seat, EVER. Hello, crumbs and year-old germs!
• I let him watch TV even if he’s not two yet (I do need to clean up after we eat), and there have been a few days when the TV was on for more than a couple hours. A day, to be more specific.
• When he signs for his rice ice cream (he’s allergic to milk) during lunch time at home, I allow him to have it WITH his lunch.
• I’ve chosen the past of least resistance and allowed him to get used to nursing to sleep. He hasn’t learned to sleep on his own, or soothe himself back to sleep.
• He has never been away from me for a day since he was born. EVER. Therefore, he hasn’t learned to cope with separation anxiety, not allowing other people to even hold him for a few minutes. Or he could also just be naturally shy, taking after his dad.
• I put my needs in the bottom of my to-do list, when I should have “taking care of myself” on the top (hence the cobwebs on my blog).
  

These don’t even come close to the full list – I can go on and on. But 20 months into motherhood, I realize that I can never be a perfect mom and it’s ridiculous to want to be one. I am only human and can only do so much, so I need to lower my standards a little. In fact, because I’m here where no help is available aside from my already-exhausted husband, I should lower the bar even more.

I do try my hardest to be the best mom I can be – making sure my son is healthy, fed and loved. I hope that’s good enough.

To Work or Not to Work

Even before my baby was born, I knew I was going to have to quit my job and stay home to care for him. That decision was made out of the lack of having somebody we can trust to watch him, not really because I wanted to.

I honestly never imagined myself staying home to care for my kids, not until I had to live in another country, away from extended family. Plus, growing up with a working mom, I always envisioned myself as a career or business woman, leaving my kids to be watched by nannies – just like the way we were raised back home.

But because these were the cards dealt to me, I gave this SAHM (Stay-At-Home Mom)/housewife thing a chance. After several months of my identity forming into “just a mom and a wife,” my depressed self was convinced I really am not the stay-at-home-mom type.

“You’re blessed to have a choice not to work, especially in this economy.” This is what I always heard, and while I acknowledged that, the NJAM (Not Just A Mom) in me constantly screamed in agony for being ignored.

Finding work always seemed so tempting. Every time I got e-mail alerts of high-paying job opportunities where I was qualified, I quickly imagined the adult conversations I could have again, everyday lunches with new-found friends, gossip and TV show discussions – not to mention my purchase power: I could buy my own pair of shoes without having to tell my husband!

I got really excited, but very guilty. Like I was somehow committing a sin for even thinking of going back to work and leaving my baby to be raised by someone else, missing his milestones… missing him, period. But NJAM just wouldn’t shut up: I felt I was letting the achiever in me just die a painful, slow death.

So, I decided to compromise with myself: I found a part-time freelance gig that lets me work from home so I can fulfill my need to earn money (and not allow my creative juices to dry out) while staying with my baby. Still, that didn’t quite work for my social needs: I still felt isolated, yearning for some grown-up interaction.

For a while, I doubted the choice I made. It was a difficult choice to begin with, and being a depressed SAHM made me question my decision. I felt that strong tug-of-war between my need to be a productive, money-earning member of society and my priority to be a mom and a wife, taking care of my family’s needs. Before my son’s first birthday and around my 30th birthday, right at the height of my depression, I felt the NJAM was winning.

I’m a mom – wasn’t I supposed to be fulfilled? I felt so guilty for even questioning myself, but I had to admit to myself that I did not feel “that” fulfillment from being a SAHM. After talking it out with hubby, I decided to start finding work after coming back to the US from a month-long vacation with my family in our homeland.

And then, all of a sudden, I realized how much my baby was communicating with me, through signing, babbling and his attempts at actual speaking. He interacted with me more, showing me how quickly and eagerly he learned what I tried to teach him, showing me how proud he was of himself each time I was pleased.

And then it hit me – while it is true that being a SAHM is often a thankless, sometimes brain-numbing job, the “fulfillment” that comes from spending time with one’s child is real. I feel it each time he hugs and kisses me, each time he signs “sorry” when I show disapproval and each time he does his funny little tricks. Every time I see my baby happy and content, this rewarding feeling hits me, along with the realization that the biggest investment we can ever make in his life is our time.

“It” just came to me later than I expected, but as they always say, better late than never. And I’m glad these hit me before I made the choice to go back to work, a choice I may later regret.

Now, I have decided to embrace this homemaker role and apply whatever skills into it to make NJAM happy. I will blog more often. I will volunteer my skills in our community (among others) and design personalized chocolate bar wrappers as souvenirs for friends’ events.

And because I finally decided not to spend all my free time trying to find more ways to earn money, I will now be able to knock out all the projects I’ve never really made the time to do, like touching my son’s baby book and making an organized system for my recipes, meal plans and grocery list.

Who knows, maybe I can even make money out of it in the future. How’s that for extra achievement?