I’m warning you in advance this post is a reflection of me in one of my weaker states of mind. I’m hoping that putting the words out here will help me sort through these emotions and be able to put them behind me or at least find a way to put them in perspective.
I’ve been feeling sorry for myself over the past week or so and it all came to a climax this weekend with Justin receiving the brunt of my misdirected angst. I guess the root of it is that I’m realizing I haven’t fully accepted the fact that having 2 young children means I have to put my own life on the back burner. I’m a very driven person – an achiever. Each day for me starts at zero and I don’t feel good unless I get things accomplished. Plus, I’m a perfectionist, so the things I do accomplish need to be perfect. That’s a big problem with a 2-year-old and newborn depending on you for their every need and entertainment. There are days when I don’t even get a shower let alone accomplish something that doesn’t involve a rear-end, boob or fingerpaint. With Anna demanding more attention now, I think it’s finally starting to catch up with me.
Justin decided he’s going to train for the St. Louis marathon taking place this spring, which means a significant commitment to training and some fairly long runs that he’ll do on the weekends. When he told me about wanting to do this, I had two emotions immediately well up inside: excitement (for him), jealousy (for me).
You see, I’ve always wanted to run a marathon, too. In fact, during my senior year of college I trained for the Chicago marathon and I even got up to running the 14 mile long run before an injury to my foot put a halt to that achievement. I would LOVE to train for a marathon right now – it would get me out of the house, give me something to focus on for MYSELF and get rid of the baby weight (bonus!), but there’s no way in hades that I can commit to something like that at this point in my life.
So, when Justin went for his first long run this Saturday, I was irritated to the max. I’ve been cooped up in the house all week and he gets to go out in the great weather with his friends and have a nice run. HOW DARE HE! I silently punished him by ignoring him and brooding in only the way a hormonal, over-tired, jealous woman can do. The poor guy had no idea what he did or why I had suddenly turned against him. I just couldn’t stand the idea that on the one day of the week when we have absolutely no commitments, he was committing to months of enjoyable time without us. I still haven’t completely gotten over that one, but I’m at least trying to accept it. I want to be happy for him – it will be great for him to fulfill this dream.
So, here I am, trying to figure out a way to get past this pity party I’ve been having for myself. Maybe it’s the baby blues or maybe it’s just the way my life is going to be for the next few years. I’m not trying to paint a doomsday scenario. There are plenty moments of laughter, fun and tender love like this and this sprinkled throughout my days. I know that I am blessed beyond belief and I love my girls more than life itself. I’m just trying to find a way to deal with these sometimes overwhelming feelings. The LAST thing I want to do is spend more time away from them – I already feel guilty enough about taking them to day care 3 days a week.
It’s a delicate balancing act – being a mom and also trying to being an independent woman with goals of my own. I know there will come a phase of my life when I can spend more time focusing on myself and my goals and at that point I will probably look back upon this time with fond memories and wish for these days again. The grass is always greener…in the meantime, life goes on.
