I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down to write a blog post. Blogging nowadays consists more of captions underneath carefully, yet “spontaneously” timed, Instagram pictures. This isn’t a criticism of that trend, but that would never work well for me. Why you ask? Simply, because I’m a talker. I enjoy the details in stories, and I relish in retelling them.
It’s actually why I initially started a blog – long before I knew what I would talk about, I simply knew I wanted to talk (not news for those who know me personally). Mainly talk about nutrition, and books, because these are things I always enjoy sharing with others. Now, I’ve added parenting and mothering to the list, always, with a side of tea and cookies (my food obsession that is).
Recently, I was blessed with a second boy, and this time I was prepared for the uncontrollable outpouring of love that comes the instant the child is delivered into your arms. I was expecting jealousy from my firstborn towards his younger brother and we had started reading books and addressing feelings long before the due date. What I didn’t expect though is how much I missed spending alone time with my firstborn too. I missed tucking him in at night, as I had done almost daily since he was born, but instead found myself having to prioritize the baby who was still entirely helpless without me.
With my firstborn Z, I felt guilty every time I left him for work, or every time he cried and I couldn’t make it better. I learned to overcome that with baby S, but was soon caught up in second baby guilt – not having enough “Mom” to go around.
In the midst of all this, I’ve realized that I’ve made mom and wife such major roles, that the “me” in there has gotten muffled. Muffled but not gone, because as life continually teaches us, time goes by so quickly that before I know it – mom will not be as needed, and it’ll be time for me again.
But, in stolen moments, between Daniel Tiger and nap time – I find a moment to myself, to simply talk again