Times I feel like a Badass Mama

Blanket Fort

Blanket Fort

There are days when I struggle, and then there are days when I wake up and make a blanket for with my kid.  And then, to feel increasingly more like a badass mama, I whipped up some homemade banana bread with the rotting fruit on my counter. I even decided to fore-go the walnuts, since Boof’s not a big fan (though, he’ll be lucky if there’s any bread left by the time he gets home from work).

Banana Bread sans walnuts

My awesomeness might wear off this afternoon, since I’m having difficulty breathing (yay bronchitis), but so far Potamus is down for a nap and I’ve started a delightfully creepy Seattle-based crime shown on Netflix. Well, it’s not THAT good of a show, but I’m a sucker for all things local, and the appeal of streaming an entire season in one afternoon is pretty neat-o.

I’m not sure where my attitude adjustment really came from, but I read this quote on pinterest yesterday:

remember you are not managing an inconvenience, you are raising a human being. -kittie franz

I’ve got to admit. I sometimes think of motherhood as an inconvenience. I often want to just do my own thing, and raising a munchkin is pretty much the opposite of free-time. But when I take moments to not get so wrapped up in television/facebook/reading a novel/putting on makeup, I realize that this is actually pretty darn fun. AND my kid is pretty darn independent, to be honest, and I enjoy seeing him toodling around the house cooing to himself and trying new inventive ways of climbing into a cabinet or endlessly putting toys in his shoebox. And, how can you not love the sweet post-nap bed-head?


Love and loathing

Love and loathing must be cut from the same cloth, they are so similar in intensity. I get caught up in the moment to moment of it all and when the pendulum swings to the dark-side, I wonder what the help am I doing in this situation? When did I want to be a mom, and now that I am here, the trapped scrambling-to-escape feelings come rushing back…predictably strong, like  stormy ocean waves. I am beginning to dread the darkness that falls so early in these winter evenings, as it means feeding on demand in the warm, dimly lit cave of a bedroom with Boof quietly sleeping next to me. The thoughts race again…night has never been my friend, and when I can escape the danger by sleeping I am a good person. And when I am awake, left to my own devices, the thoughts turn dark and scary. And thoughts influence action, and only 16 days into this new relationship, a relationship imbalanced by such brute strength and tiny innocence. He is completely dependent and I both love and resent it. How can I hold such dualities within me? Same how do I keep the shadow-self from hurting my sweet child?


The worry is primal and comes gushing out of me in the form of wails and uncontrollable tears, which must be very confusing for Boof, who has seen me cry only a handful of times in our relationship.

But when your baby can’t take the breast without the aid of a silicon nipple, and the Dr says that his weight gain is a little on the low side, and the Lactation consultant refers you to an occupational therapist at Children’s Hospital because of his tongue thrust, the helplessness and overwhelm sets in and all I can do is cry. I stare down at this sweet cherub that I didn’t know I could love so much, and cry, because I feel so small and inadequate at this whole mom thing.