Tag Archives: Writing

And Again, The Pull

I’ve written about trying to find balance before. The balance isn’t perfect and it easily gets out of synch, like in November and December when I worked way too much. But in general, I think I’ve found the mental balance between working and motherhood and myself. Or so I thought.

Isn’t that how life works? I decided I’ve been too melancholy lately around these parts so I planned on focusing on more fun and upbeat topics, and to lay to rest the mom thing, the writing thing, the balance thing for a few posts. Planned is the operative word.

This weekend the husband had to work all weekend. We got him till noon on Saturday and then it was just me and O all weekend. That idea used to scare me. What would we do, how would we pass the whole weekend, what if I needed a break? Now though it’s so much easier. I am not sure whether it’s O, who is definitely older and more fun and more easily entertained, or if it’s me whose gotten easier, who has relaxed and let it be easier. Probably the latter.

O and I had a GREAT weekend. We laughed and giggled and played and danced and threw balls and hugged and blew kisses and played with bubbles. We ate a LOT and cleaned up the kitchen a LOT. I swear it’s like Groundhog Day with a toddler with the meals and the milk and the snacks and the cleaning up the highchair tray. But in between I watched him. And at the end of yesterday and into this morning, I was very fulfilled, very content and yet a little sad. Because I felt like I got to know him better. I felt connected to him. And sad because this morning I turned him over to the nanny and lost that connection, for a little while at least.

And this morning, trying to dive back into my writing, I feel a little pull, the pull of a tiny hand that was wrapped around mine all weekend. I can still feel his hand, like the way you feel your wedding ring even when it’s not on your finger. I miss him. It’s usually much easier to make the switch for me. But today I am rethinking everything. Just when I think I understand the balance, for me at least, I get hit upside the head with the see saw.

And then I read this beautiful post and started crying in the middle of Starbucks. I don’t think it’s so simple (for me) as just making a choice. I can’t make that choice right now, to stay home.

I don’t really have anything profound to say on the subject. Even though I’m feeling that pull, I don’t think quitting my job is the magical answer. Because there were many many moments this weekend that I thought “This is just so hard. I don’t know some women do this, just this, all day, everyday. ” No matter what we do as moms, we feel the pull, towards something else. And we question, did we make the right choice?

There is no right choice. Every path has its roses and thorns. Every path has its quiet coffee breaks and dirty diapers. The best we can do is admit the feelings and remember that there is always a yin to the yang, that the pendulum always swings back the other way, and that every experience passes. The good moments pass, but so do the bad.

This morning, I have nothing profound. Just that I feel a pull, towards something, someone. Just that I miss my little guy.



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January’s a Bitch, But At Least She Admits It

To me, the physical representation of the calendar is vertical. December is at the bottom, and January is at the top. So at the end of the year, in my mind’s eye, when we move from December 31 to January 1, I figuratively look “up” to the start of January, on the next page, and see the 365 days spread ahead, down the hill, the gradual slide of time and days and months and moments into 2011. I’ve tried to step back and actually “see” the calendar for what it is- arbitrary, invented, just a way for humans to keep track of an ordered universe that is anything but ordered. I can’t do it. January looks different to me. She is tall and slim and sleek and cold and silvery and shiny. She reflects what the future could be, what it might be, but she is empty and unmoving. Whereas December to me is full and fat and warm and red, the glowing fade of a sunset, the edges spilling over with celebrations and what-could-have-beens and the softened edges of memories. December looks back and captures everything the way we want to see it. January shows us the way we want to be.

I’ve never made resolutions. I never felt the need and I am not an extreme person, so the idea that I’d promise to work out everyday or lose 10 pounds or stop eating chocolate or organize my closet or whatever didn’t make much sense to me. I knew on December 15th I wouldn’t do those things, so being January 1 didn’t make me want to do those things either. I also usually find January depressing. I love the holidays and January seems like such a buzz kill, it’s cold but not for any fun holiday reasons, everyone is busy being “good” and boring, there is really nothing to look forward to until about March.

This year, however, I feel differently. Christmas was a bit of a letdown for me, due to my own busyness and stress. I haven’t been focusing on what I want to. All of a sudden, for the first time, January seems necessary. I’m ready for January this year, ready for her blank slate and clutter clearing and refocusing. And this year,  I made not resolutions exactly, but commitments. I’m re-crossing the Rubicon.

Commitments to myself, for myself, all about writing.

Commitments to myself and to my family about slowing down and savoring life.

Seems like in life, we are always starting over in some way or another. For example, I haven’t written nearly as much as I intended to in the past 6 months, haven’t gotten nearly as far as I wanted. Instead of feeling defeated and frustrated, maybe I just need a better perspective. Maybe it’s not starting over, it’s just starting better. I know how to do it better now.

So here’s to a shiny and blank New Year, ready to be filled with new adventures, new experiences, and falling down and getting back up, new babies ( T and A and K and U!), a new move (sister), new expectations and disappointments and reflections, new philosophies and embracing new detours, new stories and new friends, new laughter and new seasons. While we move forward, we cannot leave the past behind, so here’s to your New Year also being filled with old friends and favorite routines and rituals becoming traditions.

I’m coming for you, cold January lady. I’m gonna wipe the blank slate right off your face.

Happy New Year!!!

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