It's Monday and I have nothing to write but feel like I should. I think NaBloPoMo is going to be a big help this year - I'll have to find a way to mix my mommy-ing in with my blogging. Because those two things are so vitally important. Hrm... I was going for sarcasm in that last sentence but it's kind of true.
The other day I was thinking about hose early days of parenting. A lot of you were there for that - blogging through post partum depression, Brasil, and my complete lack of knowledge of basic child care. I look back and I tear up almost every time. How did I survive it? It was so dark.
Years ago as I was driving myself through the New Mexico desert to start grad school in Arizona, the transmission blew up in my car and I was stranded. I had a cell phone but no reception, and was terrified. I looked at the oncoming traffic next to me and it was all I could do to not jump in front of it. I was blessed by some angels in the form of a family of strangers and learned a lot that day about prayer and faith. But whenever things get bad I remember how rational it seemed to step in front of a moving truck, and how close I was. That first year of WonderGirl's life was like that, for the most part. I tried to enjoy her and love mothering, but I was almost always just a few steps away from giving up in the worst way. The fact that both WG and I survived is nothing short of a miracle to me.
But that year felt like 10. Every day was a looming mountain to climb. You know how some people say they look back and it's all a blur to them? It still feels like it was 10 years. Now we're hitting blur-time, and I understand what people mean. I'm not a natural, but I've gotten pretty good at this. Thing 3 hit the mom lottery, while poor WG got a clueless, sobbing hack.
But then again, I hit the kid lottery. I was bumbling along but because she has huge brains, she figured out most things without needing adult intervention. Then the Dude has a mini-mom who practices reading and piano and violin with him while I'm tending Thing 3. These kids seriously rock despite my best efforts to ruin their childhoods.
So now we've got this angel of a baby and in the blink of an eye, he's gone from being born to scooting across the floor in a desperate effort to lick daddy's electric bass. I wish this time could feel like a snail's pace.
PS: I started this on Monday. It's now Tuesday. See what I mean about time going so fast I can hardly keep anything straight?