Emphasis

wow I am right back where i started a week ago, contemplating calling my doctor to get some antidepressants so I don't feel like this anymore. What this is, is ungrateful, crabby, anxious, angry, jealous, competitive, numb then not-numb but the aforementioned emotions all again and all at once, covetous, ugly, slothful, then abused and why is there so much to do and why do I have to do all of it. And what is my life about? What kind of positive change am I working toward in the world, shining stupid sinks and wiping baby butts (albeit adorable baby butts)? Am I wasting my life? What will I be when I grow up?

And underlying it all, tired. so tired. I try to focus on the present moment, and I feel a surge of hope and joy in my son's smile, or attempt to crawl up the stairs, or a spontaneous hug...and then I lose it. I lose the moment, I open up the laptop, I gaze at the beautiful pictures on someone's blog, coveting coveting coveting. White cabinets, a kitchen island, wait a minute I need to take out this wall and move this here and blow open this room or blow up this house because it is unliveable unliveable I cannot bear to live here ANYMORE. The kitchen is dark dark dark and I am always stuck in it. I stick myself in it. I am hiding in the kitchen I hate.

I start getting angry at my husband. He works all the time. He is never here. I can't ask him to do more than he's doing because he works literally ALL THE TIME. So the trash in the garage never gets cleaned up, he leaves me with overflowing kitchen trash to take out to add to the dump in the garage. When he is here he is always always always on his phone, always. youtubing music, facebooking, text messaging. His kids do NOT know what his face looks like unless it is facing down, gazing at the almighty ever present IPHONE. And I AM NO BETTER WITH THIS COMPUTER.

The ridiculous thing is, and those of you who know my husband know this, he is a gem. He is an absolute prince. He makes my life possible. He has some quirks that drive me nuts, but, hey, that's living with anyone. Marriage is work, our marriage is work, but on a normal day our partnership flows evenly and seamlessly I think because we choose to pay attention when the work needs doing. Truthfully, he only hides on his phone when he's tired and stressed. Truthfully, I only hide on my computer when I am tired and stressed.

The above paragraphs were written after three nights of not-great (okay non-existent) sleep. Peter is teething, Benjamin has night terrors, Greg didn't wake up the first of the three nights so I had to, and the last two nights he's been at work. Last night I gave Peter ibuprofen and opened the door wide and left the hall light on so Benjamin could find his way downstairs on his own. And I turned the monitor off. I left my door open, woke up briefly when Peter woke up, but went right back to sleep. Benjamin made his way downstairs at some point, I barely remember helping him up into bed. I discovered this morning at 8am that B had politely closed his bedroom door behind him, which may explain why Peter slept until 8 when I walked in...bet he cried awhile this morning (probably around 5am) before he gave up...oh well...

I say oh well because I can either get up and soothe and comfort and help back to sleep, or I can be present and laugh easily and play and stay on top of all the thousands of daily tasks that keep their world bright and clean and beautiful, but I can't do both anymore. Its been over 2 years since I had a regular sleep cycle. I am officially worn down.

I have been doing a lot of mulling over what I want to remember about this time in my life. What do I want to put emphasis on? I notice the memories I have taken away from different stages in my life are those that I put particular emphasis and importance on. Also, painful, I mean physically painful, memories are seared in my noggin with pretty detailed pictures and senses. Some otherwise painful memories, too. I understand that is a tool my brain has to ensure I remember the cause of the pain so I NEVER DO THAT AGAIN! Frankly, a lot of those memories make me laugh now. At any rate, other memories not associated with pain are always a little blurred. But I remember them because either they brought great joy or change to my life, or I chose at the time to put emphasis on them. What do I want to emphasize about this time in my life? I tell you what. Its not the depression.

I refuse to let depression be the main focus of my babies' first years. I want to remember the way they sound, the way they laugh, what makes them laugh, what they love to do, what surprised and delighted and inspired them. I want to remember the way they wrap themselves around my neck and middle and hold on with their soft little bodies. The way they smell. The awakening of their relationship with each other as Benjamin realizes Peter is a person and likes to play, too. How if Benjamin hears Peter he says 'oh! Peter awake!' and heads for the bedroom with me to get him. Or if we're on the way out the door, Benjamin will say 'Peter, c'mon! Bye Bye!' The way Peter looks at everyone he knows and loves, with open adoration and joy, that almost toothless grin flashing to get the attention of the person its directed at, saying I am here, too! I want to play and laugh, too! Petezilla, demolishing all train tracks and roadways in his path because he's 9.5 months old and that's how he rolls.

DESTROY ALL RAILROADS! I AM PETEZILLA!

I actually didn't know this picture was going to be this good- I really thought I was just getting a sweet snuggle bunny photo. Benjamin always delivers.

We are having a preview of spring this week here in Albuquerque, with sunshine and mild breezes and perfect, perfect temperatures. We aren't done with winter yet, but I am humming 'Here comes the sun do do do do, here comes the sun and I say It's All Right'. I feel like I am waking up after a yucky dream to my amazing, beautiful life. Keep on rejecting the depression, embrace sleep, and focus on the small, infinite, fleeting gorgeousness that are the details of childhood.

I can answer some of those big questions about myself later. Right now I am going to take a nap.

Picture number 954 of Benjamin and I posed and smiling exactly like this.

Moo Cow

Cup of coffee, check. 

Oh, oops, that's not coffee!  

Just kidding. That's my wine from a few nights ago. The lovely thing about my Iphone is I can share a drink with friends without actually going out and joining them. That is usually the only option, lately. Peter is not a fan of me leaving the house without him. This is Peter:

He's even that cute without the cool Jack the Pumpkin King hat. He's my cling-on, my constant companion. He's 8 months old and the second sweetest person I've ever met, the first being my husband. I think Peter gets all his greatest qualities from his dad.
Anyway, thank goodness for my husband's family, I would never see the public sphere sans baby without them. Husband doesn't even like staying with him for too long. One of the great Daddy-inherited qualities Peter possesses is obsessiveness. I meant to say persistence. When Peter decides its been too long since he's seen me (more accurately, my boobs) he starts to whine, then cry, then he gets dramatic. He actually growls sometimes. Wouldn't know it by looking at him, would ya? So we've been practicing leaving him with various family members so that I can get out and explore my identity as more than moo cow. He does enjoy holding his own sippy cup, as long as its filled with mama milk. This requires me being hooked up to the breast pump for up to an hour a day at different times, which I HATE because I really can do very little else while I am being milked like Bessie for the morning cream.  No formula for this kid. He wants the homemade stuff. This is in direct contrast to his solid food preference. He can't stand the baby food I make, he only wants the jar kind. I can't blame him, really. My baby food making skills are not great. I choose to blame the lack of fancy, over-priced tools. So, really, we are saving money by buying the jarred stuff. HA!

The question of identity and mommy breaks is a big one in our house lately, and a big one in my circle of women. One of the wisest things I ever heard a mama-to-be say was 'I am ready for it to not be about me for awhile'. I knew, with my 7 months pregnant belly and 13 month old toddler as evident experience, that she was without doubt ready to be a mother. When you have little bitty ones, it just can't be about you. They need too much from us. It is my happy job to provide lots of kisses and fun activities in addition to fulfilling their physical needs. I am so fortunate to be a fulltime stay at home mom, part-time daycare provider for other bitty ones, because I get the most kisses and snuggles.

There are drawbacks, though.  If you don't have a job outside of the home and other (adult) people regularly interacting with you, it can start to seem like you are merely a vessel, no longer a person with personal needs, wants, interests. You are the gadget that provides the milk, the food, the toy-reacher, the diaper-changer, the gate-opener, the nose-wiper. Children, especially those under 5, do not care about your agenda or your needs. And, really and truly, they aren't SUPPOSED TO.
I have to say that again. They do NOT CARE. They do not care if you are an artist, a singer (although they like it when you sing at full volume, especially selections from Les Mis and sometimes The King and I. Maybe that's just my kids), they do not care if you are trying to start a business or if you are a writer (ha! sorry I had to laugh at myself with that one) or if you haven't had a break or sleep for 4 days. They are not supposed to care. They are supposed to grow and learn and develop and PLAY. And your job, your MOST IMPORTANT JOB is to provide that opportunity for them. You OWE THEM THAT BEST CHANCE. When they are bigger they will owe you bathroom cleaning, lawn mowing, back rubs, possibly credit in 'who's your hero?' school essays. But now, when they are little, they deserve this time to get their best start, their best chance at being their best selves.
So, if you will excuse me, I have to go play Moo Cow and hook myself  up to the breast pump so that my youngest, my Peter, my cling-on lovie, can practice with his sippy cup.