I don’t think that there is any sense of easing into this whole “Mom” gig. You are in charge of just yourself for your whole life, and then, BAM, you get a helpless infant who needs all of you all of the time. I love my children. I love my role as Mommy. But the (former) plants in my house would beg to differ on this issue of love. I’ve never been one of those ladies who has it all under control, but pre-children, I managed to keep up appearances. Post-children…it’s a whole new bag of hidden things I now suck at.
Household Plant Life
As previously mentioned, the plants in my life have had a better, ahem, life. I currently have an extensive collection of dead orchids. The pots are quite nice, so I save them, but I’m not quite sure why I’m saving the dead plant inside. In 2007, when it was “just us,” one of the orchids looked a bit dejected, and we raced it to orchid 911 in Greenwich. No joke. The poor thing later met a slow end in 2010 when I stopped paying attention to her in favor of my newborn son. My lovely green houseplants made it about one year into my first son’s life before they met their certain demise. I really do feel bad about it. But at least the children are still fed and watered!
I can guarantee that I will read your email. I’ll probably even respond to it in my head. There is a 50% chance that I write a response to you. But there is about a 12% chance that I actually pull the trigger on the “Send” button. Part of the problem is that I really dislike typing on my phone. Part of the problem is that I have roughly 20 things going on in front of me at any given moment. Part of the problem is that I am lost in Momville. Just text me.
I used to read the news. Once upon a time, I took the train during the week and used my time to catch up on the rest of the world. I used to love the Sunday paper. But my Sundays have a whole new routine to them these days. I have become one of those dreaded people who gets her news from gasp, Facebook. Sorry, but it’s the truth, and I can’t hide it. Sure, I have news apps on my phone, but I’m honestly so caught up in the latest drama right in front of me (“I understand that she took your toy, but it’s up to you how you are going to respond to her…”) that I don’t even open them. It’s simply easier to streamline my focus to Facebook to get my news, and my social update fix in one app.
My Christmas tree came down on January 31. The mantel decorations on February 15. I can’t win against holiday un-decorating. It makes too much mess, and the kids are always underfoot. Better just to let it go and embrace my laziness.
Before I had children, I could schedule my next appointment as I left the salon and be confident that I would make it to that future appointment. Going to an appointment every 4-6 weeks was not a big deal. These days, I’m more about living by the seat of my pants, as in, “Hey, I have an hour free this afternoon. Who can fit me in for something right now?!” This rarely works out in my favor. This year I invested in a lovely swim dress, which was money very well spent. I’ve also convinced myself that putting my hair in a wet ponytail every day is cute and endearing.
My kids make it to the dentist every 6 months on the button. Me? I will not publicly admit the last time that I have been to the dentist. I don’t even have a primary care physician. I was pregnant for so many years that it was a moot point. The last time I saw my mom, I stole her eczema cream because it would buy me a few more months of avoiding my own dermatologist appointment. Maybe this is the year to finally get my medical ducks in a row?
There are many things that I am doing well as a parent. Again, I’d like to stress that the children are alive and very well cared for. I don’t mean to be a Mommy Martyr putting the kids first. It just happens that way. The one thing that I always do for myself is a regular pedicure. The nail salons around here are open 7 days a week and cater perfectly to my attitude of last-minute walk-in appointments; plus, there are few simple pleasures as wonderful as 30 uninterrupted minutes in a massage chair. My house and my hair might be a mess, but my toes look fabulous.