Run Momma, Run.

I woke up this morning to find I had been bitten by the bad mother bug.  I was so tired and I knew it was going to be a long day but I had no idea how hard it was going to be. I usually don't nap during the day.  I try but I mostly can't.  I usually just end up laying next to the baby if I really feel I need to relax but seldom do I fall asleep.  Today however, the moment she fell asleep for her morning nap, I did too.  I woke up before her and had a few minutes to do some dishes and put a load of laundry in.  When she woke up it was non-stop.  It's been non-stop for the last few days now.  The baby wants to constantly nurse, she always wants to be on top of me, yet when I pick her up she pushes on my chest to be put down.  She's restless, fussy and unhappy with everything.  I pick her up- waaaaaah.  I put her down- waaaaaaaaah.  I feed her- waaaaah.  I don't feed her- waaaaaaaaaaaah.  I am about ready to scream.  Where is my life?

Today is one of those days where I mentally checked out of motherhood.  My mind was somewhere in the Mayan Riviera, getting a massage under a hut right next to the shore.  I want to run away today.  I actually pondered the thought.    This is the second time since my little one was born that I actually started an actual plan to get in my car and drive.  "I'll need gas money and I need to pack some clothes..." and that's as far as I got until she interrupted me to nurse.

Where to?  I don't know.  I just wanted to drive and never stop driving.

I feel like a terrible mother today.  Instead of being in the moment and accepting and understanding and being open, all I can think of is this forever job I have been given and how heavy its weight feels.  I'm buckling today.  While she was still sleeping, an angel from heaven (aka one of my best friends) brought me some grilled veggies and my birthday gift- a new dress and an adorable size 25 skinny jean!  She had read my blog and had picked up on my cry for help.  I was so touched and grateful for her presence and for the gifts.

I was so excited about my new pair of jeans that I put them on right away like a little kid on Christmas.  Incredibly enough, a size 25 is now a tad bit too big on me.  Yes, I said TOO BIG.  I have not been a size 25 since I was prepubescent!  So while I loved the gift, after having to pull up my jeans for the 200th time by mid afternoon, I wanted to cry for how skinny I am and for how not sexy and plain I feel.  There is some definite underflap in the boobs now too and no matter how much I lunge and squat and leg press, my bum- lost during labor- has not returned.

I don't blame any of this on my little one.  It's just life.  But when she's tugging at my shirt, at my hair, at my jeans, at any part of my skin she can grab onto all day long, it gets easier to start pointing fingers. All day I've been resisting being a mother and it made the day so difficult.  So, I started asking myself, "Why is this so hard for me?"

I suppose in my life I have always had an exit plan in every situation and in every relationship.  For me, FOREVER was a tough concept.  Perhaps that is why I have a hard time letting something attach to me or me to it- friends, lovers, family, career.  With forever comes expectations and if I am honest with myself, I don't like anyone expecting anything from me.  Hooray, happy surprise when it does come but it almost surely won't if you're demanding or expecting it.  So,  there was a point where, for a couple of years, I really thought I could go it alone.  I felt marriage was not for me and was alright with that.  When I met my husband, I began to feel differently about it.  And now, forever with him doesn't feel so daunting, despite of all the possible marital pitfalls (some which I have already been introduced to and have survived).  But loving forever with a child is something I am very slowly growing into.  I don't know what to do when she fusses and cries this much.  How many times can I sing the same song or play the same game?  I want to punch Elmo in the face.  So, I feel like running.

I want a day to myself.  Like my friend said it today, "I wish I were sitting on the sand under the rain and that I had the whole day to myself with no phone and maybe a rock to sit on."  But we also both expressed the same feelings that despite how much we wanted an entire day alone, we think about our little ones and can then drop the fighting and the desperation for a moment.  We can't go back so we have to work around it but sometimes it feels there's no around to work.  It just feels like a bullet train going on a straight line at the speed of sound.  Which reminds me of what some smart ass said to me today as I walked into my mom's business.  My hair was disheveled, my clothes were milk and spit up stained and the bags under my eyes were almost hitting my knees and in the most annoying tone anyone in the speaking world has ever had, she actually said this: "Ha.  No one knows what's in store when you have kids until after you've boarded the train and are going full speed ahead!"  Um, yeaaahhhhh.

I think today I may have decided that I don't want a second child.  I don't know if after all of this, I will have anything left to give of myself.  I don't know if there are three selfless me's in there for a third go.  The selflessness journey started with my marriage and has continued on in a big way with baby.  I just don't think I can do it again.  Because I would never half ass parent.  If I did, I would just contribute to the huge population of perfectly good people ruined by bad parenting.  And who wants anymore of those people going around polluting the Earth and voting Republican and producing more reality TV shows that make idols out of Snookie and Kim Kardashian.

I am so tired.

Maybe if I wasn't so tired, I would run away.

It's amazing how perfectly this is all designed.  Babies are so helpless and cute that it makes it so easy to love and care for them.  And they need you so much that they completely tire you out so that you don't go through with your maniacal exit plan and stay there for them where you truly belong.

Poop.