Jan 13, 2009

I sing. I think most of you know that about me. What you might not
know is that there was a whole time in my life when I didn't sing. My
family always encouraged me to sing, but then, right before I turned
18, I was given very pointed evidence that not everyone enjoyed it
when I went around singing at the top of my lungs. At the time I
didn't understand (I suspect I understand better now - there are few
things as downright annoying as listening to one of your favorite rock
songs being sung in a choral way) but I felt thoroughly embarrassed,
and I slowly stopped singing, first in front of the people I knew it
bothered, and then, over time, in front of almost everyone except my
family who, as I said, had always been supportive.

In retrospect that may have been one of the silliest things I've ever
done. I started singing again (without restraint) when I was pregnant,
at first I had to make myself do it, I had gotten so out of practice.
Eventually I managed to get back in the habit, and I hadn't realized
how much I missed it. Now my little boy is old enough to listen to
me, and he LOVES it when I sing. To think I almost turned myself into
a person who doesn't sing. And for what reason? I don't know.

Why do any of us twist ourselves like pretzels into people we aren't?

I am not, by nature, a housekeeper. I am very motherly, and I enjoy
hostessing, and I enjoy cooking - in these ways I think I fit the
profile of a homemaker - but I never thought (possibly because I never
thought it through) that being a full time mother would, by necessity,
force me into the role of being a full time housekeeper, as well. Not
only do I not like it (it makes me want to don an apron and pop Valium
like candy) but I have to admit, I kind of suck at it. I am a BAD
housekeeper. I always thought I could do anything I set my mind to,
and perhaps I can, and I have simply refused to set my mind to keeping
house, but whatever the reason it cannot be denied, I am AWFUL at the
little details to house keeping. I am best at doing the laundry, and
worst at doing the dishes, but I'm not really good at any of it. I
have spent the past year battering against the injustice of having to
BE the housekeeper, I never thought to just accept it and then accept
that I am bad at it. I imagine it will infuriate Waxor no less to
have me say "yup, I suck at doing dishes" instead of saying "why don't
YOU do them", but perhaps it is time for both of us to just accept
that, whether I deserve it or not, I am clearly stuck with this job
AND, whether I am stuck with it or not, I clearly am no good at it.

I suppose I do not have to be good at this thing. But I keep getting
told that it is part of being a mother, and to see a sink full of
dishes somehow then makes me feel like a failure as a mommy. And what
kind of sense does that make? None, but there it is.

I feel trapped inside my head these days. So many thoughts swirling
around in there, and Elliot doesn't understand them, and they don't
interest Waxor, and so they pile up and pile up until I feel like I'm
going to explode. I admit that many of them are homey, domestic
thoughts. What's the right temperature for Elliot's room to make sure
he sleeps well? What can I do about the ever growing sprawl of toys
(both baby and adult) that is taking over our living room? How many
loads of laundry is that, so far? But many of them aren't. I think
about going back to church, not because I want to be a Christian, but
because I feel the need to have people in my daily life who think we
are more than just lumps of clay. I love my friends, and I am not
interested in changing who they are or what they believe, but I find
that my need for (half of you are going to cringe when I say this, I'm
sorry) spiritual support is just not met at the moment. Right or
wrong, I BELIEVE there is more to us then highly complex carbon, and I
need to have some outlet for that. So I think about going to a church,
but then I always decide not to, because I don't ever want to hear
another "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" sermon ever again.
I think about doing something besides being a homemaker. Having now
HAD a baby I'm not sure I want to make it my livelihood to witness
other women doing the same thing. But I think I might have made a good
therapist. Maybe not, I don't suppose I'm actually qualified to say,
but it would have been interesting, certainly. And I figure it's too
late for that, because, even if I went back to school, the cost of
education is... prohibitive. I think about going through everything
I;ve ever written, and trying to sift out some interesting things that
are worth developing. But I fear to set that as a goal for myself,
because then I am afraid that people will ask me "How's that coming?"
And judge me if I haven't found the time for it.

Waxor asked me recently "What is it that you do?" Not to be mean, or
to hurt my feelings, he just wanted to know what I do that makes me a
person worthy of interest, as opposed to just a living, breathing milk
production and diaper changing assembly. I couldn't answer him. I
mean, I know how I fill my days, and I know that I find at least some
of what I do interesting (not the laundry party, but, y'know, OTHER
parts) but I did not know what would make me of interest to anyone
else.

Coury gave me Mamma Mia for Christmas, and I watched it with my
family. I love the movie, but it made me wistful. The women, and
their friendship, specifically, made me wistful. The women that I
have that kind of connection with are scattered all over the place,
and many of them I haven't seen in years (although thankfully I have
seen some of you more recently). I think women need their girlfriends
more than they ever suspect, until they don't have them by their side
anymore.

A bit pensive, aren't I? Bet you were expecting a letter full of baby
news, weren't you? Well, here's a bit:

Elliot can walk, but mostly refuses to do so. I think he figures why
bother when crawling is faster and holding on to an adult is more fun.
But he can, so one of these days, when he makes up his mind to do it,
that will be that.
He really enjoyed our trip to Nicaragua, as did I. He did a lot while
he was there (including learning how to get off of something
backwards) but the thing that was most a relief for me was that while
there he generally woke up only once or maybe twice a night. It was
great. Of course, now that we're back he's back to his old schedule, I
think the cold really bothers him.
He can turn around and slide off our bed, a legacy of learning to go
down the step backwards over Christmas.
He's more and more talkative, he uses a lot of his own made up words,
but he seems to be working very hard on actually pronouncing "Dada"
"Dog" and "Cat". At the moment the differences are slight ("Dada"
"Daaaah(gk)" and "Dadt") but they get clearer all the time. Still no
"mama" but I hold out hope.
He's learning to go to sleep without nursing or sucking on my finger.
Mostly that means that we go, and he nurses and gets almost all the
way asleep, and then I take my finger away and he drifts off without
it, but it's progress. Last night he was having a really hard time
sleeping (I think he's teething) and I would go in and he wouldn't
want to nurse or have my finger, he just wanted to roll over and hug
me while he slept. It was really sweet.

He is, at the moment, being incredibly cranky, so I may need to take a
break and go put him down for a nap...