Maslow’s Hierachy of Needs: A Mama’s Perspective

You don’t need to spend hours in a psychology class to hear about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The basic premise is that people need certain things in their life, and these things build on one another to get to a full, well-rounded experience of life. It’s like the food pyramid, with the basic needs being on the bottom. I like to spend my time in the top tier, but I’ve noticed that, in my time as a mom, I can not be in the top tier as often as I’d like. Not because my house is crumbling around me, or that I don’t have adequate food resources, but, because I am so freaking tired.

Seriously.

At 13+ months, Potamus is still sporty a gummy West Virginia smile. Zero teeth. None. And for the most part I’m cool with this fashion statement, but in the past few days the snot has begun running more profusely, a lowish grade fever, and CHOMPING on everything in site, which is usually his fingers, and I’ve noticed some self-induced bulimia action happening. I think, finally, he’s going to cut a tooth (or 9). I can’t quite see them all coming through, yet, but it’s the only thing to explain the bizarre crying jags at 4 am, that have kept us both up for the past 3 days (thank God I’m off today).

Because when I am tired, I am less able to be compassionate. When I am tired, and stuck at home picking up all the books that he has thrown around the room for the umpteenth time, I get cross, and forget he’s in pain and tired, too, and developmentally, tossing books is super cool. I think, if I were a better mom, I would have indoor house activities planned, but I just don’t have the energy, so I let him pull books of the shelf and toss orange slices to the dog from his high chair. Sometimes work is easier than parenthood, especially without those basic needs being met.

I’m trying to take it all in stride, as this is the first week Boof is at work, and normally we share Friday duties between the two of us. His late-home arrivals are going to be hard, but thankfully tax season is just that- a season.

 

Wrist Rolls

you’d never know this kiddo was having trouble sleeping last night!

I’m pretty sure Potamus is about to hit a growth spurt, since he’s eating aproximately every 1.4 seconds at night, and his wrists have begun filling out into little Pillsbury Doughboy puffs. He might be teething, though, too, since he chews on everything and is drooling and cranky…though 13 months strong without a single tooth, I’m beginning to believe that he’s going to be teased in junior-high for being the toothless wonder!

Thank God Boof hasn’t started work yet (that’s Wednesday) because last night was ROUGH on the sleep end. Potamus went down at his normal 7pm, but then was up at 9 something, then back asleep and up at 11, where he ate a full yogurt (after nursing) and was down for another hour. Then he wouldn’t sleep except for being held from 12-3, where Boof dosed with him on the couch. Then he slept with me for an hour, but needed to be nursed three times from 4-6 this morning. He was restless all night, constantly reaching out for me and tossing and turning in his sleep. I don’t mind the reaching for me, but his hands running all over my face for an hour is not conducive to sleep. And neither was the pinchy stomach pains from my new eating habits. I’m jealous that Boof got to go back to sleep after we left for work/daycare.

And then I drop Potamus off with the daycare and…NO TEARS. Holy Bejeesus, this kid has adjusted, at least for today, and despite the lack of sleep, it was worth it to see him go to his new teacher without any fuss. My baby is growing up so fast!

Burnout

There’s a clinical term for the rage I fee: secondary trauma…vicarious trauma…burnout. Try to explain that rage, funneled into one angry outburst of angry “stop screaming!” at my teething/growing/over-stimulated baby tonight.

Not my finest mother-moment.

Sure there are many contributing factors to this rage: Boof being out of work due to his own dumbass mistakes and taking this intensive 10 week class while also working for the Mariners when they are at home (currently there tonight, yes, part of my frustration), and a family caregiver who loves Potamus dearly, but hasn’t quite gotten into a very good rythym of watching him due to the up-and-down nature of my job. She’s gotten too comfortable, scheduling hair appointments one day, nail appointments another, and while I’ve been okay for the most part, I am actually getting paid a salary, even if my work is slow, things come up and Potamus needs to be minded, and I can’t be the village raising my child. And as my clients get better, I seem to be getting worse, but then I beat myself up about wanting a new job.

Today I consulted with a dear friend, former colleague, and former classmate. She made me laugh when she said, “oh, you aren’t supposed to be affected by seeing suicidal kids everyday? by seeing the worst of the worst situations?” I do see the seedy underbelly of mental health and family life. I impart wisdom and coping skills and education to my clients, and am losing just a little bit of myself in each of these exchanges. I am having  a hard time stopping the slow leakage and its effecting me deeply.

The look on Potamus’ face when I yelled at him, was heartbreaking. While this isn’t my first time, when he was only a few weeks old, he reacted out of what seemed to be simply instinct. Tonight there was awareness. There was this flitting look on his face that seemed to say (before he broke out in even more tears) “but this is my mom who is yelling, why? why?”

After 30 more minutes of nursing/rocking/stroking of sweet baby hair, he was finally asleep. Will he wake up with forgiveness? Will I?

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