My mom was in town last week, as I mentioned a couple posts back. Finn had a great time with his Mimi, and I was thankful to have another adult around during the week.
My mom has always taken the tough love approach. So, I shouldn’t have been surprised when, one afternoon, while we were out running errands, she looked right at me (mildy disgusted) and asked, “Do you even brush your hair?!”
Later, I recounted the conversation on Facebook and made some quip about how I needed to return to my pre-baby beauty routine. The truth is, since Finn was born, I haven’t paid much attention to my appearance.
(We deliberately took these photos on one of the few days when we DID brush our hair. Just because we wanted Finn to know, when he looks back on his baby pictures, that his mommas weren’t completely haggard.)
I don’t really brush my hair most days, actually. I mean, I comb it when I get out of the shower, but my blow dryer has been seriously neglected ever since Finn came into our lives. And let’s not even talk about make-up. Or any outfit that doesn’t involve Birkenstocks and flannel shirts. (Insert lesbian jokes, here.)
You get the idea.
Partly, this is because Finn and I don’t really do much. We run errands here and there, sure, but we don’t actually go anywhere that warrants my trading in the flannel for something even remotely more stylish. (Can I get a “what, what!” for flannel shirt weather?!)
And partly, this is because, when I’m home with him by myself, it is damn near impossible to get much done. My whole day has become a maze of naps and feeding times. That sounds like a complaint, but it isn’t. It’s just the reality. Finn’s life works on 2-3 hour cycles. He eats, poops, plays, sleeps, and does it all again.
I tackle my daily routine (eating, showering, answering work emails, doing house stuff) with my never-ending to-do list–all while he takes naps. And most of his naps last 45-55 minutes. And I usually only get 2 or 3 of those before Sona gets home.
When I have a big task for the day, like cleaning the house or editing photos or grading student essays, I literally rush to start as soon as he’s in his crib. Then, it’s just a race against the clock–or the baby monitor. Sometimes, like this week (with a wedding to shoot, an engagement session, a blown-out car tire, a dishwasher that died, a Halloween costume to finish–or start), it feels like all I do is rush around non-stop. And it can be exhausting.
I now understand all of those cliched movie plots wherein an overworked mom wants for nothing more than a long, peaceful bubble bath and a glass of wine.
I’ve tried carving out “me time,” when I can. I used to get manicures ones every few months, and now I get them pretty regularly. It’s silly, I know, especially since I have perfectly manicured fingernails and a tangled mess of a head. But it’s been nice to have that hour–every couple of weeks–not to have to even think about getting anything done.
Yesterday, I scheduled an early-morning conference call with an editor for a textbook I’ve co-authored. I deliberately asked everyone to chat early, thinking that Finn would still be sleeping. Of course, halfway through the call, he started squirming.
“I’m sorry,” I told our Oxford editor. “My son is crying and I have to go get him.”
I spent the last half of the conference call, discussing book edits while bottle-feeding–and burping–Finn. I did my best to seem interested in the phone conversation.
Maybe that’s the part of this parenting thing that’s been the toughest to work out–for me and for Sona. (She’s struggling with the never-ending to-do list in her head, too.) The thing is, we just can’t do it all. We could barely do it all before our son was born, and we’re failing miserably, trying to do it all, now.
It’s about finding balance–that thing that we’re all always trying to find. We haven’t found it, yet, if I’m being honest. I think there’s probably a learning curve for new parents, and I’m sure that some semblance of balance will come with time.
Until then, even though we sometimes feel like we’re spinning out of control, we wouldn’t trade in a second of the chaos for time we’ve gotten to spend with Finn. And that’s what I want to work on the most.
Not on having a cleaner house. Not on whittling down the to-do lists, though they are always there, nagging. Just on spending time with our son. CHOOSING Finn.
I haven’t been brushing my hair because I’ve been choosing to spend as much time as possible with our son. When he is awake, and while I’m home with him for what–in the long run–amounts to such a short and precious time, I choose him.
He is my priority–and that’s a lot coming from a gal who is a perfection-obsessed workaholic.
But I want Finn to look back on his childhood and remember that, even if there were dirty dishes in the sink and baskets of unfolded laundry all over the house, we always made time for him. We put him first, above everything else (except maybe Momma’s manicures).
We have to keep reminding ourselves, as parents, that most of the things we spend time worrying about don’t really matter at all. The best thing Sona and I have to give is our time, and how we choose to spend it is, after all, a CHOICE.
I choose Finn. And I’ll choose him again and again and again, without any regrets.