Double Trouble

 Have you ever wanted to be in two places at once? Well look no further than parenting. You can be in approximately one million places at a tiime, given those places are head spaces.

Here are just a few of the arguments you too can constantly have with yourself. (Although I guess not everyone will. Not everyone has that constant argumentative relationship with themselves that I have with me.)

Not Enough/Too Much

It doesn’t matter how much you do for your child, it’s never enough. You want to do everything for them.

I mean, right now, Hubby and I both spend about 12 hours a day with Baby and maybe three hours to ourselves. And we’re not just with Baby, but we’re doing so much for her. We cuddle her. We feed her. We play with her. We hold her hands above her head while she walks around. We change her diapers. We read her books. We take her for walks. We give her baths. We sing songs and dance with her. We tell her what things are called and try to figure out what she’s pointing at. We put her to bed.

Almost every waking second of her life, one of us has been with her, thanks to this apocalypse we’re living with. The hours we spent away from her at work before everything shut down were so few.

The last few days, she’s seemed very attached to me, more so than she was before. Even when Hubby holds her, she’ll squirm and reach out for me. (Sometimes she wants him when I’m the one holding her though. The grass is always greener.) I know it’s normal for babies to be attached to their parents, but is she going to feel that more because of how little we’re away from her?

The thing is neither of us ever wants to be away from her. Sometimes Hubby goes food shopping or runs an errand. (I haven’t really done any of that; he feels kind of responsible for hunting and gathering in the craziness out there. Which I’m grateful for because I went to Walmart with him twice, and the amount of people wearing masks under their noses, most of whom are employees, tested my already thin patience.)

Other than the necessities, it’s hard to tear ourselves away from her. There are things throughout the day that cause us to, but they bring so much guilt. For example, I’m a big makeup wearer. It’s part of my daily ritual. Even in the chaos of now, I do my makeup most days. First of all, I have so much it’d be a waste for me not to. Second, it makes me feel a little more like myself.

But I usually save it for when Baby is eating lunch. Hubby feeds her most days, and that’s when I apply my face. It takes about half an hour, and there’s a niggling pressure in the back of my mind to get back to her. I listen to everything intently, and if she gives any sort of cry, I have to at least ask what’s wrong if not go running to her.

There are other things I love to do that I just wouldn’t be able to around Baby, and I’m generally not doing those things at all these days unless she’s napping. And I’m really (mostly) okay with that.

I know. It’s possibly not a healthy level of wanting to be with her.

And to that end, are we doing too much? Are we spending too much time with her? We almost never put her down. If one of us is busy, the other is with her. Does she need more independent time to become a more well rounded, independent person in herself?

Which leads me to…

Being Youself/Being a Parent

When I was pregnant, I remember telling myself (and I’m pretty sure writing here) that I would not become one of those people who talks about nothing but their children. I have so many interests, and those people (sorry to be stereotypical here, but they’re usually women) always make me think they have nothing going for them. They’re quite simple. They love their families, which is nice, but that’s it.

I love to work out. Before I was pregnant, if I did anything less than an hour a day, I felt guilty. I literally convinced my crazy self that a 15 or 30 minute workout wasn’t worth the time. (Don’t worry. Argumentative me would manage to remind myself that a shorter workout is still a workout. Sometimes.)

I write (if this didn’t give it away). I’ve been working on a novel for 5-6 years now, far too long. Every year is the year I’m going to crack down and finish editing it. But it takes a lot of time and a huge amount of concentration to get that job done.

Reading is another hobby. We bought our new house last year with plans to turn one of the spare bedrooms into the library we’ve always dreamed of having. I own more books than I’ll possibly ever be able to read. In addition to it always being the year I finish my book, it’s also always the year I read more books than the one before.

Hubby and I love to go to ComicCons. To the movies. Hiking. Walking around malls and towns. At least most of those are null and void at the moment.

But the others… yeah. They’ve taken a major back seat to parenting. I squeeze them in when I can. Most days we go for an hour long walk with Baby in her stroller, so that’s my workout. On rainy days or when it’s too hot, I try to remind myself it’s okay to take a day off working out. Sometimes I can squeeze in 15-30 minutes while Baby naps.

But sometimes I convince myself editing my book is more important than working out. I do want to get this thing out into the world someday, and I know I need to reedit AGAIN once this draft is done. I know if I gave this thing the time it needs, it would still take probably at least a year to have it query ready. (That’s being optimistic, but hey, it’s my hypothetical future that won’t come to fruition.) So I’ll spend some time editing while Baby is napping. Even that is scattered - I’m working on rewriting the initial draft, but I’m also in a swap with other amatuer writers, so I’m sometimes updating what I have based on their suggestions.

Reading might be the easiest hobby to continue while parenting. I try to get some in while I’m nursing, which is maybe 10 minutes three times a day. But sometimes Baby wants to play with my book. Sometimes I have to read chapters for the swap I mentioned above, and I try to critique them on my phone while nursing, but if Baby sees the phone anywhere near her, forget it. She makes for that like her life depends on it.

I told Hubby, I think back in June, that I wanted to take an hour each day or so to shut myself away and get some editing done. I know he’d be fine if I did, or if I took some time out of the day to work out.

But I can’t bring myself to do it. Any time I voluntarily ask to be away from Baby feels wrong. Taking time for myself, just wanting to take time for myself, is guilt inducing. She’s my daughter. I should be there for her always. I should help her learn and grow. It’s my job as her parent.

And yeah, I know. Insert platitude here about how taking time for yourself makes you your best self or something like that. But I can work it in here and there. Maybe not as much as I’d like. But you have to sacrifice time for your progeny. (What a strange word, progeny.)

I really, really don’t mind. Much. I certainly don’t begrudge Baby any of the time I spend with her, and when I’m involved in watching her, I lose myself easily. But I remind myself frequently it’s just for now. I will find a balance again someday. And that day will indeed be here before I know it. Things go faster than fast these days.

Which leads me to…

Help/Independence

This was sort of touched on in the last entry in terms of Baby learning to stand up. I had to help her just enough so she got her confidence and so I didn’t have a heart attack everytime she tried it. And then there came a point where I had to make Baby try it on her own. She resisted at first, but she got there eventually.

There are so many instances like that. When do you help Baby read a book vs. when do you let Baby just page through it on her own? (This is something she’s taken to doing. There was a day this week that featured one of the most beautiful moments of my life - Baby sat down with her books and spent a significant amount of time turning the pages back and forth in each one. I decided to let her do her thing and brought my own book onto the floor - Hubby did the same. The three of us sat there surrounded by our books, and I nearly cried.) When do you let Baby bang the child-proofed cabinet doors as much as she can vs. when do you pull her away so she doesn’t run the chance of slamming her fingers in them? Basically, when do you let Baby take chances and run the risk of getting hurt but learning a possibly valuable lesson vs. when do you take her away for her own safety and your own sanity?

Again, you know the answer cerebrally - you keep Baby safe when she’s in danger of getting seriously hurt or threatening life, but you have to let her fall down or bump her head sometimes. But it’s not what you want to see. You want to hold her hand and hope she never gets hurt. But you also want her to grow and learn…

You see the dilemma.

Yes, the multiple headspaces are countless.

Healthy for a sane person like me.

(Note: I might sound like I'm complaining in this entry, and I don't know how to make this clear other than to say - I'm not. I love Baby more than anything, trust and believe. Spending time watching her become a little person is the greatest thing I've ever done. Expressed above are just a few parental realities.)