First, second, third – this post is not about these brave moms who bring children with a very small difference of 1-2 years. My reality is different, I had had the time to taste the essence of motherhood with every child for a few years. And my way of accepting and rejecting has been changing dramatically as years flew by.
First things first
First child – take him, somebody, let me sleep. Please, I want to sleep. I want to do some shopping therapy. Make money. Blog, go out, be stylish, slim, pretty and fresh. Will my baby ever grow up? I want to do everything except being the 24-hour mom. This new mom uses every opportunity to sneak, evade and crawl away to get some fresh air. I look for nannies, private kindergartens, after-kindergartens activities – then I realize I want to be a good mom and it frustrates me even more. A vicious cycle with only one way out – understanding what I really want from life.
First child – there is so much hidden meaning in these two words. Lots of emotions, expectations, disappointment, frustration and joy. Rushing about between trying to be an ideal mom and wanting to escape to the nearest moon from the hassle. Asking myself – was I conscious when I made the decision to thrust myself into this spinning-wheel? Looking at the wheels of the stroller (pun intended) when walking and thinking that I must be somewhere on that wheel: being smashed and crushed every few minutes, getting up just to be crushed once again in a never-ending series called parenthood.
Second child. O.K., this is hard. It is the hardest thing I’ve ever experienced. It’s not even close to what it felt like with the first one, when I could get some morning sleep and afternoon nap. I can’t handle this. I can’t handle two small creatures running, shouting, breaking things and driving me insane. All I can do is look out of the window and feel jealous of the young girls who can go shopping hands-free. Yoga doesn’t help: I still don’t like the way I look and I am not calm. NOT CALM AT ALL! I still want to make money, to look good, to have enough sleep, to have some time for myself. I want to stretch time. But it is impossible. And I’m going totally insane. It’s amazing I can still function, smile, talk, run tasks and even make some money. I spend sleepless nights sending energies into the monitor, pretending I’m making a career. Time cannot stretch beyond itself and even the horrible sleepless nights spent in working end. And I’m a sponge. No time or energy for the two sweetest individuals who crave my attention. The feeling of guilt is far behind me, I did what I felt the right thing to do at the moment. But…
Third time is magic
Third child – what a blessing! Every moment is a gift. How come I am so relaxed, confident and happy? Where do I find the time to blog, to take care of myself, to have enough sleep (ehhh?…) to look good and feel even better? I wish I had started with the third one right away. Is it the timing? The age? The experience? Life conditions? Different environment? Or is it me and my inner world, having changed so drastically, that handling three of them plus a million of other tasks seems
almost a routine pleasure?