This week has been pretty crazy with my doolally brain feeling more of the downsides of parenthood at an ever alarming rate. My attempts to fight back this Tired Parent Syndrome miserably burnt out, so did my self-motivation $#!+. The mental fatigue wreaked havoc on my day-to-day activities to a larger extent that one fine day, that is yesterday, I dissolved into a massive ocean of tears soon after my very unpredictable baby D dozed off. There isn’t anything in particular that provoked the situation or may be there is, yada yada, my restless mind yearned for a break from having to trail behind the kid almost the whole day. Jesus cries, I don’t even get a proper pee break in between. Which is okay, what is not is the kid’s newly acquired talent in throwing tantrums throughout the day. It was only a week ago I felt things are getting better in the parenting front and DRRRR…. baby D ripped my littlest confidence off with yet another lesson which deserves a special mention in the subsequent posts that are scheduled for this month.
The other adult comes home utterly exhausted after work, pleads mercy and goes to sleep, which means it’s just me and the baby again for the next inning which halts only when the clock strikes 12 AM. Or 1 AM or 2 AM if luck is against me. This is like traversing back to the trajectory except I am not accompanied by a baby anymore but a full-fledged toddler who shocks me with tantrum parties EVERY. DAY.
I solemnly wish to take back the third reason why I love Mon-yays.
I pacify the child and entertain him throughout the play sessions and meal time while deep inside I remain unmoored. Why The Feeling? Dig deeper, you will also see me harboring a deep grudge on myself, on others and if you have an eagle’s vision, you are likely to also see the communicator in me craving liberation. Given the warm title Merry Motherhood, “Wish I could get rid of this mommy cape and soak my sullen self in a different zone at least for an hour” would certainly be a grim statement to put down. But truth to be told, the thought resurfaces even when I am not consciously thinking about it. Baby-free time. No, I am sure I don’t unlove my child. I never will, as long as I am sane. So, this is exactly how I have been feeling this week. Mom-guilt which is pretty much present in every ounce of my Indian blood shuts me down against acknowledging my need for hiatus. It is like being in a state of limbo between two unparalleled lives at the same time. I want to blame the circumstances or fate for convenience and get over the feeling but somewhere from the insides, a quote of George Bernard Shaw keeps storming in.
“People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are. I don’t believe in circumstances. The people who get on in this world are the people who get up and look for the circumstances they want, and, if they can’t find them, make them.”
Could it be the lack of self-care that triggered this stagger-stutter-slur attitude in me? Left with no other option but to resolve the issue myself, I decided to treat myself as another person (a friend, perhaps) and pamper my wounds no different than the way I would if I were my friend. Because, I so deserve it.
This morning after Dr.H left for duty, I let baby D watch baby shark and cooped myself up in an inaccessible corner of the thinking room. The transient isolation for five minutes cleansed my aura which further tuned itself to perfection as I pushed down the breakfast with a steaming cup of chai.
To start with, I browsed for some great quotes on self-care and pinned them to my screen.
Probably the tantrums are not an issue at all, but pulling myself together is. I have devised a self-care plan that focuses on inexpensive, feasible options to relax my mind and body without compromising the quality time I spend with baby D. If it works like a charm, I’ll share it in the blogosphere as well.
Sticking onto a self-care strategy feels like I have walked too long past the late night miseries. It seems so hilarious (pinning quotes to the screen I open only once in a week, LoL, how lame is that!) to look back at the other side of me – the shattered me, through a freshly-acquired vision that promises to hold a higher spirit in the days to come.
Happy weekend, you guys.