Random Friday Thoughts

Before I had children, I thought motherhood would come naturally to me. I envisioned these beautiful transitions into selflessness where the only thing that matter was my children. I imagined my marriage taking a natural back burner and that feeling okay, because it would be punctuated by wild sex and sweet, tender moments. I imagined giggles and hugs and moments of sheer beauty, without any of the other moments. Mostly, I imagined that I would continue to live up to my own impossibly high standards and I imagined that I would have the good grace to forgive myself when I didn't.

Silly me.

Motherhood has not come naturally for me. Mothering has come naturally. Being a mother to my children in their moments of greatest need is easy. Being the boo boo kisser and the crying comforter. Keeping track of their progress and their benchmarks and adjusting around it has come naturally. Being prepared with size 3 diapers when the size two ones don't fit - things like that. That is all natural, and easy. Allowing my children to fold into my heart is easy. Knowing that I would still choose this path is easy.

What isn't easy is the selflessness part. Or the part where I give up my relationship most of the time to be a parent. Sometimes I get so frustrated and I have nobody to vent it out on. Just talking about it isn't always enough - I want to throw a fit and be frustrated loudly. And I have to keep my shit in check, because it's not my kids' fault and it's not my wife's fault. It not anyone's fault...it just is.

We juggle a million things at all times. We really never get a break. I'm not sure that any parent every truly lets go of being a parent, but it sure would be nice to be able to just shut it down for a few. I find msyelf missing the freedom of non-parenting and single life. Even in the same breath, I know that I would never go back. I'm tired. I'm stressed out. I need some time to reconnect with my wife - god, I need her again. It's been over two years since we've really connected on the level that we used to. Sometimes I feel like we're lost completely. Other times, I catch a glimpse of us in passing as we each rush off in different directions. Those rare moments, when that look passes between us and the fire burns bright for a few seconds reminds me that we still have the love that created the life we live.

In my logical brain, I know this is temporary. I know, sooner than we would like to imagine, the kids will be out of these early years and will be more autonomous. I know they won't always keep us up every night. I know that there will come a day when they will play with each other and we'll wonder if we even exist in their worlds. I know this. I do. But it doesn't help right now, because right now is when I need some of the pressure lifted. I feel like a steam cooker, and the steam is just building and building.

We're going to the Outer Banks in September. My brother, his two kids, my mother and my best friend will be joining us. I can't wait. My mother is a goddess and she gets where I'm at. She knows how much we need some down time and our children love and trust her. She has cared for them exclusively (when we were in the hospital and for a week or so after we got home). We can leave them in her hands and walk away. Maybe for only a few hours, but a few hours is enough to reconnect. To find ourselves on the beach, alone, with a setting sun.

Parenting for me is hard work. I envy those who can just enter it without the drama. I wish I were one of those people.