There's hardly time. I'm always multi-tasking. I'm often exhausted. When I look out to the horizon for some relief, all I see is my to do list. There's someone tugging at my knees, someone who doesn't realize I am doing this new business to be at home more and also to help us one day buy our own home. This little someone also doesn't know that I have no time for myself. All he knows is that my time for him is short.
Beren's been asking to nurse frequently, which has been making me grumpy. When he nurses, I feel like falling asleep. A friend and mentor, who is soon to be a grandmother, helped me see more clearly what is going on. Among other things, she asked me if I was giving my son enough attention.
Certainly, that's difficult to hear, especially when I feel so worn down already. My son is very capable. I'm very lucky and perhaps I pushed it too far, so now for as long as it takes, I will baby him until he knows I'm there for him no matter what goes on in the airspace four feet above his head in the adult world.
I gave myself completely to his needs the past two days, as best I could. I went to work, yes. I showered when I got home from a long day, surveying hiking trails in the rain, yes. But I made time in every other way I could. We read stories in bed in the morning, he sat on my lap during meals, we played together in the evening. I put all tasks aside while he was awake. I nursed when he asked, and when I was ready to button my shirt back up, but he wasn't, we read another book.
I'm mothering a two and a half year old. He's our first and likely our only child. Everything is still new. Everything I try is still the first time. It's been only two days, things seem better. Who knows?
There are some days, and even weeks or more, that someone in the family will need to be flexible, even when feeling their most rigid. Now it's my turn to bend.