I've become quite removed from myself, OR I have changed drastically. Perhaps the truth is somewhere in the middle. Mmm.
2 plus years since I've blogged here! My Lara will be 2 mid-September, and she's growing at a rate that is a lot faster than I am comfy with. I do not understand parents who push their typically-abled kids to advance quicker and quicker. They're only little for a while before they get to (yay) join the mad rush aka survival.
Meanwhile, the memory of the very first time I saw Lara, the one with my gynea holding my baby crying so beautifully up over the blue cotton screen shielding me from the cutting action, is slowly fading. It's gotten me a little depressed; whenever I push my mind to recollect, it desperately tries to replace her image with another newborn covered in blood with the cord attached, just so there is an image to the memory. Shocking to see how the mind can be such an imbecile sometimes. I try not to work on that memory so as to not mess it up further...until perhaps I learn of a method to remember better.
Anyway. It's actually already possible to have an argument with her where you both know what each other mean (unless ofcos, you're one of those assholes who say 'devour' to a toddler instead of 'eat'). I'll very readily admit that my happiness now depends on her happiness, full stop. Yes, le husband's and le folks' satisfaction matter too but she's got veto power, the tiny human.
Taking constant stock of diapers, milk, gerber puffs, yoghurt melties, fresh fruit, yakult/ juices, fine dark chocolate, new books, bread, eggs and home made frozen meals is very very easy to do. They're running out? Immediately order/ make more, and while we're at it get some shit for the grown-ups too. Baby just made #2? Wash it off thoroughly. She just said 'apple'? Praise her like crazy and kiss her till she manages to wriggle away to play more. Bed time's coming and she's still parkouring? Catch her, hug and get her sleepy time routine going, followed by being stuck to her via my boob, with her leg thrown around my waist. I'm a pretty organised mum, if you could please not look inside the cupboards or toy chests, and I can safely say I am her favourite person for comfort needs (major knock on wood) even though I work full-time.
You know what's missing? The never-leave-your-side part of being a mother. I am thankful for the means to earn so that my family and I can afford nutrition, sanitary living, medical necessities, etc. and have a little extra to spare. It does not stop me from feeling that I am cheating my child of the secure, blemish-free childhood she deserves. My mother did not go to work after getting married, and my sisters and I had the luxury of having her with us 24/7; the one-stop answer to everything we needed and did not know we needed. What I remember most of my childhood, is my mother's smiling face. It's a sickeningly sweet thing to say, I know, but it is true; she smiled a lot, and each smile was a blessing to me. Lara is in her care when I'm at work, so now it's her turn!
I wonder what Lara would remember of me. I hope it is the good things, like how I am silly with her, silly for her, dance with her, smile with her, make sure she has easy access to my breasts throughout the night. I would hate for her to vividly remember that I was around only after dark most of the week. Or the three nights where I got home after she slept, and she had cried up a storm beforehand.
Hope she understands that my choice to work is directly related to our comfort and that it was all for her. And that when/if she becomes a mum, she does not have to work out of necessity and experience heartbreak everyday. Ridiculously, it does not get easier when you are meant to be inseparable.
2 plus years since I've blogged here! My Lara will be 2 mid-September, and she's growing at a rate that is a lot faster than I am comfy with. I do not understand parents who push their typically-abled kids to advance quicker and quicker. They're only little for a while before they get to (yay) join the mad rush aka survival.
Meanwhile, the memory of the very first time I saw Lara, the one with my gynea holding my baby crying so beautifully up over the blue cotton screen shielding me from the cutting action, is slowly fading. It's gotten me a little depressed; whenever I push my mind to recollect, it desperately tries to replace her image with another newborn covered in blood with the cord attached, just so there is an image to the memory. Shocking to see how the mind can be such an imbecile sometimes. I try not to work on that memory so as to not mess it up further...until perhaps I learn of a method to remember better.
Anyway. It's actually already possible to have an argument with her where you both know what each other mean (unless ofcos, you're one of those assholes who say 'devour' to a toddler instead of 'eat'). I'll very readily admit that my happiness now depends on her happiness, full stop. Yes, le husband's and le folks' satisfaction matter too but she's got veto power, the tiny human.
Taking constant stock of diapers, milk, gerber puffs, yoghurt melties, fresh fruit, yakult/ juices, fine dark chocolate, new books, bread, eggs and home made frozen meals is very very easy to do. They're running out? Immediately order/ make more, and while we're at it get some shit for the grown-ups too. Baby just made #2? Wash it off thoroughly. She just said 'apple'? Praise her like crazy and kiss her till she manages to wriggle away to play more. Bed time's coming and she's still parkouring? Catch her, hug and get her sleepy time routine going, followed by being stuck to her via my boob, with her leg thrown around my waist. I'm a pretty organised mum, if you could please not look inside the cupboards or toy chests, and I can safely say I am her favourite person for comfort needs (major knock on wood) even though I work full-time.
You know what's missing? The never-leave-your-side part of being a mother. I am thankful for the means to earn so that my family and I can afford nutrition, sanitary living, medical necessities, etc. and have a little extra to spare. It does not stop me from feeling that I am cheating my child of the secure, blemish-free childhood she deserves. My mother did not go to work after getting married, and my sisters and I had the luxury of having her with us 24/7; the one-stop answer to everything we needed and did not know we needed. What I remember most of my childhood, is my mother's smiling face. It's a sickeningly sweet thing to say, I know, but it is true; she smiled a lot, and each smile was a blessing to me. Lara is in her care when I'm at work, so now it's her turn!
I wonder what Lara would remember of me. I hope it is the good things, like how I am silly with her, silly for her, dance with her, smile with her, make sure she has easy access to my breasts throughout the night. I would hate for her to vividly remember that I was around only after dark most of the week. Or the three nights where I got home after she slept, and she had cried up a storm beforehand.
Hope she understands that my choice to work is directly related to our comfort and that it was all for her. And that when/if she becomes a mum, she does not have to work out of necessity and experience heartbreak everyday. Ridiculously, it does not get easier when you are meant to be inseparable.
