Punky Moms is a hilarious, amazing, badass group of ladies. Check out the Instagram and Facebook group – there’s no other place like it. I have had the pleasure of contributing to their website. See those articles here. And tell them Rachel sent you.
January 4, 2016
Each of my fibers is screaming for me to shut down and walk away without saying a thing. Thankfully, my extrovert husband is used to this by now. And thankfully, I am used to having to at least supply a few spoken syllables, so as not to leave him completely in the dark.
“You have to tell me, out loud, what’s in your mind.” He has to remind me sometimes. It’s too easy to sit and state into space and hope my silence says everything with nothing. It is one of our biggest compromises to date. In nine years, the ultimate mark of our partnership is my hand gently on his knee when he is too much, and his on my arm when I am too little.
When I was pregnant, we would wonder aloud which traits our future child would get from whom. Would she be loud and rambunctious like him? Would she be quiet and studious like me?
Turns out, she is both.
February 24, 2016
Right now, though? Right now is the time for soaking. For bathing in the fleeting joy. There still isn’t much sleep, but now there are shrieks of laughter and learning how to pet the dogs and shaky baby sprinting into my arms. She is endlessly curious about everything around her. She dances wildly in the excitement of locking eyes with me at the end of the work day. She babbles endlessly, making bold declarations in what seems to be very important and serious gibberish. She stares holes into strangers at restaurants, and just before they become unsettled with the intensity, she quietly raises her hand and gingerly waves her fingers. They laugh every single time and my heart bursts at sharing her with the world.
“Isn’t she incredible???” I want to say. In an effort to not look insane, I stuff the words down. When they open the door with a polite, “She is so beautiful/smart/cute/funny,” I immediately grin. Just as the sentence leaves their lips, I jump in with a slightly too loud and eager, “I KNOW RIGHT?”
June 15, 2016
There were weeks where I would document every second spent awake or asleep. Even when the numbers tallied up to something laughably horrific, it made me feel – however briefly – I had a hold of things. Like I was in control. Eventually though, the exhaustion would melt my bones and I would admit defeat. And so the dance would go. Stiffen, relax. Tension, breathe.
There came a point where I had to ask myself, could I fight this? Should I fight this? Does it even matter if I fight this? When I stepped back and truly tapped into my self-awareness, I realized it was largely my own stubborn pride fanning the flames. Self-preservation and survival obviously had parts to play, yes. But really it was the need to win.
The need to win what, though? She is my daughter. Not an enemy to be conquered.