perspective from below

My son is in love with a pinata. It's a Dora pinata (rather large) and he drags it everywhere behind him by a string.

And I'm depressed.

Those are the main news items coming over the reel.

I hate that I get depressed. It's just a part of my life, something that comes and goes, and these days as long as it doesn't hang around for too long, I can ride it. I've been so tired, so tired all the time. I thought at first it was because I hadn't been exercising, but then several days of 40 minutes on the elliptical at the gym didn't seem to change much.

I'm having trouble keeping in perspective that I won't have a 2-year-old forever. One day, no one in this house will scream at the absolute top of his lungs anytime he disagrees. Somedays I feel like this, this, is my world forever and ever, packing snacks and cajoling into carseats, wrestling hollering toddlers to the ground simply to change a diaper, pulling dimes out of mouths to screams of protest.

But then there are clear moments when I can see my life in a long flat plane, and I realize that This Time--with babies--is a distinct phase, and one day (and not that long from now) I'll look back on it as some previous lifetime. When I think this way it all feels so sweet, their chubby little cheeks, their tight hugs, the way Clark smashes his entire face into mine. There are people, certainly, who are best cut out for this work, who in previous eras served as wet nurses and nannies for an entire career lifetime. Though I sometimes wish I were, that's not how I'm built. And, frankly, I suspect most women aren't built this way. Isn't that the trouble, though? That we all expect ourselves to be good at all the jobs, or at this one in particular? We think we are somehow less if we can't easily do this mom thing.

But all that is another issue. For now, I just try to see them. (They are both so sweet. Yesterday Clark brought Frances his own cherished blanket when she hurt herself, because we were at a friend's house and it was the only blanket available. He tucked it under her chin and then patted her back.) I focus and feel my smile every single time Clark says "No dis going," the cutest phrase ever, which means several things from "this toy isn't working" to "I can't get the lid off the applesauce." Cute cute cute stage (except when it isn't), even when he's mad. One of my favorite moves of his right now is his hollering: MOMMY! BAD! GIRL! when I lose my cool and holler at him for hollering at me. Nothing like being called flat out on your stuff.

respite

It turns out a walk in the snowy cold is an incredibly economical use of my sitter time. I got exercise, was alone to think my thoughts, saw the outside world, gave Milo a semi-workout, felt much better. It's odd to live here where the snow is always on the ground. I like it. It reminds me of the seasons I worked at the ski resort, but then I didn't live the minutae of regular life, didn't have to go to the grocery or drug store, didn't have to drive in it much.

Oh it felt so good! The sound of the snow, the texture of the cold. The high here yesterday was 8 degrees and I assume it wasn't even that when I was out. The cold is so intense it's a physical experience all its own. Being out in it felt a bit like freedom. I've got to remember. I've got to do it more often. I need reprieve like this, and returning stuff at the mall doesn't do it, you know? No, I need to interact with the planet itself, not the linoleum that lines the halls of commercialism.

schedules

The boy is 5 1/2 months old (already! I can't believe) and his little body is trying to get on a 2 a day nap schedule. I was so organized and consistent with my time when F was a baby and it really paid off in her disposition I believe. She knew what to expect and she's been accommodating since about taking naps and going to bed. Her schedule is still firm, but Clark tends to nap on the go since his nap time falls when F and I are going. I fear that if I were to be consistent with his naps too, then I'd never leave the house. He'd nap and then she'd nap and then he'd nap again, and then it'd be dinner time. Yet I feel so strung out lately, so chaotic and disorganized, and I think a schedule would help everyone out. Working on that. It's my latest project.

The other thing happening is that M and I are doing a trial membership for a health club. It's an expensive club; the upside is it's literally a quarter mile from our house, which means we might actually go. I've gone to a couple of classes so far and they kick my butt--a good thing. I've been feeling so stiff and achy and low on energy, and I was recently complaining to M about how I'm getting old. He nicely pointed out that perhaps it's less my getting old and more my being out of shape. This hadn't occurred to me. (I have, after all, given birth twice in less than 2 years.) I want time at the health club to be part of my schedule--they have a "kidtown" which F has already decided she likes, which makes working out (ie: doing something solely for myself) less guilt-ridden; I'm struggling with that anyway when I'm there. The anxiety of being a mom is endless. I'm hoping that a morning leg of my schedule will include Clark's napping at kidtown. Will see how that goes.