A moment to sit and think

I haven't written in forever because I've been consumed with a huge project at work and adjusting to the time crunch of being a newish mom. I've often had fleeting thoughts of things I want to write about while riding on the bus to work or rushing to do an errand but then faced the reality that I really don't have the time. Sleep, laundry, and "The Good Wife" on demand have become the priorities in my downtime.

Now that project is over and I have more time -- about 1 hour and 45 minutes to be exact because Owen just went down for his morning nap after a breakfast of cheddar cheese wedges, oatmeal with applesauce and a significant amount of whining and rubbing the cereal all over his face because he was tired.

When I get these small breaks, my mind often runs through my To Do list, trying to figure out which thing I want to do. Should I clean up the mess in the kitchen? Take the clothes that Owen has outgrown down to the storage unit? Watch that documentary on Islam that a friend sent? Read the first chapter of that book I've been trying to get into for the third time? Or just sit on the couch and listen to the rain?

It's a new feeling, having so little free time. Owen is at the stage when all he wants is mama and whenever I put him down and try to, I don't know, put on underwear or apply mascara, I feel his little hands tugging at the bottom of my pajamas, trying to climb up my leg. He's 23 1/2 pounds now and no small package to carry around. It's sweet the way he lunges for me whenever someone else is holding him. I love his baby soft skin and deep brown eyes that light up when he smiles. He loves to yank at my earrings, tug at my hair and gets a studious look on his face, brow furrowed, as he picks at the buttons or snaps on my shirt as I hold him in my arms.

My little time crunch

It's also a bit overwhelming to be needed so much. I've been warned that it's fleeting, so I try to embrace it rather than resist, because I know he is a little person with fragile emotions and natural needs and I want him to feel safe and embraced.

One of my sisters-in-law often talks about whenever she and her two sisters would beg their mom to play with them, she always said she was too busy cleaning the house. I totally know that feeling of wanting to feel some semblance of control over my life by keeping the carpets vacuumed and the bathroom mirrors clean. When I walk into the living room in the mornings, bleary eyed and stumbling toward coffee, I step over a roomful of wooden trains, assorted balls, scattered board books and plastic building blocks.

I've asked Dave, who gets up with Owen every morning at 6 a.m. so I can get a few more hours of sleep, to only dump one bin of Owen's toys onto the floor instead of two, because I just can't take the clutter. It's a joke, really. Because when you have a child, your life (and living room floor) really isn't your own in both a deep, satisfying, "this is what I'm meant to be doing," but also an impatient, tapped out, "please go to sleep now so I can watch Mad Men" kind of way.  

The other day I was telling a friend how stressed I've been feeling juggling work and Owen. I summed it up by saying, "It's the typical working mom, work-life balance struggle." She responded by saying "Just because it's typical doesn't mean it's not hard."

That helped me give myself a break because just because thousands of other women are experiencing the same sense of disorder that I do every day, doesn't mean it's any easier for me. Sure, I'm not alone. But I can still take a deep breath and work in small things for myself, like steal away from work to get my nails done, sit and eat a sandwich without doing anything else but chew and sit on the couch like I'm doing now, reflecting on how I've been feeling.

Yesterday I signed up for an 8-week mindfulness based stress reduction class. Of course it has an acronym: MBSR. Every Saturday morning for two months I will enter a room with 20 other people to do relaxation exercises, meditate, twist into yoga poses and learn to be more present to every moment. When I did my intake interview with the psychologist who has been teaching the course for 18 years, he asked me three questions:

What is most important to you?
What brings you the greatest joy?
What are you most afraid of?

He told me to answer quickly without thinking, which I did. My answers:

My family.
Owen.
Recurrence of severe bouts of anxiety that I've suffered in the past.

He also asked me what I wanted to get out of the course. I told him two things: more space internally between something that happens and my reaction and greater vitality.

Since becoming pregnant more than a year and a half ago, I feel like I just haven't gotten back to my usual energy level and sense of ease in my body. During my pregnancy, I hardly exercised because I was so nauseous. Since my pregnancy, I've hardly exercised because I'm "too busy" and tired. Thus, I'm out of shape and most of the pants in my closet still don't fit. I refuse to buy news ones.

But waist size is not what this is really about. It's about that sense of well being I have after a lively Zumba or sweaty Bikram class.  These days, every time I turn around I'm catching Owen's flu or colds. Twice in the last 10 months since he's been born I've had laryngitis.

So yeah, becoming a parent has all kinds of adjustments. And with those changes, I have less drive, less energy, to just power through whatever task is before me. That's not always a bad thing, yet it does require becoming more patient and accepting of my limitations in a culture that is urging me: "Do, do, do."

Instead, I'm going the other direction. I'm going to take a class to learn to be, be, be. A coworker I told about the class asked me why I think I needed it and I said I just didn't want to look back on my life and realize I missed Owen growing up, forgot to nurture my marriage and carried around an extra 20 pounds because my mind was somewhere else.

I'm going to do my darndest to live more fully and to be more accepting of the times when I feel tapped and empty.  It's the least I can do today.