Beach living...
I can't stop thinking about the nature of parent-time. I'm writing this blog post crunched in the corner of the guest bed in my son's room. He fell asleep sprawled on the bed while nursing and so I pulled out my laptop to read student essays. If I move him into the crib, he'll wake up. This is a partially selfish move (I can do some work if he sleeps) and partially thoughtful move (infants need a lot of sleep, so why interrupt his?) Meanwhile, the bottom half of my body is numb and my wrists hurt as I type in this position.
Parenthood is multi-tasking to the extreme. There are things I need, he needs, my relationship with my husband needs, the household needs and my many p/t jobs and volunteer work need. Meanwhile there are the sudden needs, like car trouble or an ant infestation. There are emails, phone calls, knocks on the door and errands to run. There are poop explosions to clean up and balanced meals to prepare and Breaking Bad to watch. There's also sleep and laundry to tend to, but if I keep listing everything that needs to get done, I might instead make a list of what to pack so I can run away to live on an island beach, alone and without any of these many needs.
But I know that on the island, after a few nights of good sleep, I'd be lonely. I can't imagine life without my son or my husband or this career that I've carved out for myself. I don't want to have to choose. Maybe if we could all live on the beach...
And so realistically, here I am on this guest bed, hoping I can stand on my numb legs when the baby stirs. Weekends, nights, mornings - it doesn't matter what day of the week it is or what time it is. Every day offers some random hours to get something done in the few moments that present themselves.
Each day also offers time to notice how our son arches his back to stretch and throws his arms up over his head, as if to celebrate a victory. And how he smiles when he sees one of us right there to welcome him to this new, beautiful day.
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