But it's also kind of stressful. That's not a bad thing, necessarily. Stress can be good, though it also has some corrosive effects. There's a balance, I'm sure. So I don't mention stress as a kvetch. Just a fact of life. I'm not the kind of person who can just "stress less" and cease sweating the "small stuff." Nobody can follow that commandment/well-meaning-non-advice. You can control your exposure to stressors and learn to manage your stress reactions. You can't change your sensitivity to cortisol with a few Abracadabras. And maybe you shouldn't. Being more sensitive to it, when properly managed can be an asset or at least connected to sensitivities that are an asset. And with that...
On this edition of What's Stressing Adella Out This Month?
1. MOVING Aftermath. Always a biggie. In so many ways, I pre-loaded all the heavy emotional elements of moving from Bellingham to Mount Vernon. I even pre-loaded the logistics for our actual move so much that it was actually a relatively painless process. But holy crap, life is overwhelming sometimes!
Things I haven't successfully accomplished include the following: setting up dental appointments for me/Chaya, setting up any other medical appointments for us, doing something about the jungle our yard has become (because I secretly would prefer to just do it myself, but I don't have the time or the lawn mower), finding somebody to fix our garage door, finding somebody to fix our felled external light, killing those stupid ants that crop up en masse randomly in some new area of the house, listing our condo for sale (we're getting there), unpacking several boxes, gotten rid of all the stuff I never wanted to bring with us in the first place, setting up several items of furniture that are seriously in need of baby proofing, installing curtains, figuring out a way to keep the place remotely clean and less chaotic...
I did incompetently attempt to (finally) install the long-needed babygate at the top of our stairs. It was a failure, but this failure resulted in Andrew stepping in to take charge. Just in time for Chaya to discover wheeled metal death machines (BIIIIIKE! Andrew is so thrilled).
Now if I just can do the same with the other furniture boxes loitering in our living room...
2. Keeping human and connected during moving related stuff.
Andrew's car broke down. A small little straw on the camels back of everything else. It naturally brought out the endemic disharmonies in our methods of dealing with things. It perhaps also emphasized that we were both feeling overwhelmed and disconnected. Oh yeah, marriage and self care and all that crap is work too! I was kind of busy just keeping moderately sane in the toddlernado, while managing a few aspects of this housing transition.
It's fantastic that Andrew's home a little earlier. And that he gets to sleep in an eensie bit more. But sometimes it emphasizes how desperate I am for adult connection and help by the time he gets home. And how much he needs a little time to settle. He's so great with Chaya in the most challenging of circumstances, but it can be several dropped bids for attention for me and a few really acerbic bids between Chaya demanding Mommy hold her! Sometimes there can be a few evenings in which we only elliptically talk to each other via "Chaya," which drives me mildly nuts. It takes us a while to re-find our own mutual rhythms many days after a high intensity toddler and a long drowsy drive.
And of course, I'm sensitive, so I pick up the stress of those around me.
3. Being the highly sensitive introverted mom of an amazing and breathtaking little toddler beast. Duh.
Chaya is so friggin' cool. She's also non-stop. You do not get a break from the vertiginous dazzle of a little mind in blossom.
Last week she was having a tough time falling asleep at nights. I chalked that part up to an explosion in her language. Which is crazy (and also cool). She'd just lie in bed yelling out words, and then she'd wake up occasionally in the middle of the night reciting animals and noises and little sequence of event stories about Dadda car work and garage.
She's working on some teeth (of course). And last weekend, she got sick with a nasty cough. Now sometimes she's so tired that she sleeps as she can, but it's restless sleep. Some days she's been pretty darned miserable.
Here's where the introverted mom thing gets complicated. I never understood at first how my friends with two kids could be out and about so much after their newborns were born.
Now I get it.
I get overstimulated and exhausted flitting from activity to activity, for sure. But it is nothing compared to being stuck at home with a bored and unhappy toddler!
And she's reaching an age where she really understands a sense of "other" and "friend." Every morning she requests to see Bastion (Sebastian), Isla, and Alex. And Claya (Claudia). It's amazing to watch them recognize each other. And to share and not-share, and otherwise play together now.
And she gets excited to hear about going to the car. Going to dance class. Going to music class. Going to the park. Seeing PAM (Gramma Pam).
So, this is really fun, but I definitely now am out a lot more than my childless sweet spot. I'm lucky that Chaya is vergingly introverted herself and needs some breaks. There are some kiddos who would actively kill me. But I still am out driving and shuttling and socializing a bunch for me. It's fulfilling, but it gives me scant time to regroup. Chaya needs extra attention when we get home, then I want to spend some time connecting with my husband and THEN I only have a certain window of downtime before bedtime if I want to be remotely rested.
4. Stress itself!
Stress is not my thing. I'm not a wilting violet. I can rise to an occasion and did get thoroughly high off of performing and competition. I don't know why, but I guess that's all to do with context.
I also get through really heavy emotional and life-crisis stuff with a shocking amount of sanguinity considering how much of a dither a late dinner might froth me into. But that's survival. I have a good survival instinct. Probably why I am so sensitive to stress in the first place.
Stress, the day to day stuff, has a strong physical impact on me. Not just mine. I pick it up from anyone around me. It kills my sleep upsets stomach and makes me worn and jittery. And it's wearing. I used to be such an adventurer. Andrew once asked how I could have done some of the wild globetrotting and party living that filled my youth, given what he knows of me now. The answer? I had crippling insomnia. Leaned on way too many combinations of emotional crutches and unhealthy relationships. Ate or didn't eat to medicate the anxiety. And had many handfuls of embarrassing emotional examples of "lashing out" or being my rather worst self.
Nowadays, I don't get to be grossly unhealthy, because my little toddler beast needs a present and grounded role model. So I take better care of myself. I try to practice (and boy does it take a lot of practice) mindfulness and self-compassion and all that lot. But it can certainly all pile up sometimes. I don't starve myself. I don't have time to overexercise. And I'm too cautious to imbibe anything that might either mess up my precious sleep or transfer through breastmilk.
So for now I just make do with breathing, managing stress as it comes, more days of upset stomach and unpleasant cortisol afterburn, with a side of more frequent insomnia.
I am learning that being a parent is hard (that was not the part I was learning), and that it is no more or less hard as the children grow. Just differently hard and easy in turn. Each overwhelmingly rewarding and fully gutting. I'm reminded that other things are also hard. Being human is hard. Not necessarily more or less. But always different.
Toddlers take patience, self-care, and attention. They require a lot of thoughtfulness and a preternatural degree of consistency and clarity rising from the morass of whims and unspoken expectations.
I find it interesting to navigate the philosophical balance of overparenting and underparenting in this world crammed with judgment and opinion. I know whatever a parent is doing, half of social media thinks it's absurd and wrong. I do know that. But I imagine there's somewhere in between that kind of works and sounds sane. There's a level of attention and interference that must be every parent's sweet spot.
Chaya's an only child, and sometimes I think she'd benefit from sharing the spotlight with another kiddo. Does she need my constant attention? Not really. It's not even all that good for her. She needs her alone time. On the other hand, is it really great parenting to drift off and onto my computer while she's stuffing her monkey in her chair. Am I missing out on the magic or teaching her self-sufficiency? Should I be ignoring her sometimes, but only in order to do things like meditate on a lotus leaf while writing symphonies about her curly tendrils? Lord knows.
Should she be learning to share and coexist empathetically more? Or should she be learning boundaries and comfort with her own assertions of ownership over her body? A mix, of course. Should I be trying harder to encourage her to put away toys and other little chores that will give her buy-in for cleaning up after herself later?
And then there's the "enrichment" element. I am pretty hands-off in some regards. If we go to a "class" (mommy and me) I tend to just let her do her thing. Other moms are encouraging their kids to "find the blue ball" per the teacher's request. I only sort of drag her along in the dance circle because it seems to distress the teacher when she doesn't. If the teacher doesn't care, I pretty much would let her stand in the middle watching me dance along to the Popcorn Song like a deranged Disney Club reject.
And really, reflecting on my parenting philosophy is kind of the least stressful type thing. Mellow, even, sometimes.
And yes I'm taking time for myself (another chore!) and Andrew and I have managed a little date time. But we're kind of in a crunch period with life not stopping for regrouping anytime soon. We will persist, but there will be breathing and a few more sleepless nights when I call Andrew to bed early so I can at least snuggle in comfortably while the brain cavorts.
And hey, side effect is he occasionally gets a little more sleep from coming to bed early, right?
At any rate, I'll get back to the updates and news of crazy excitements and holidays and playdates. There's so much to update, but for the next few minutes, I'm going to breathe, practice feeling the energy and calm ebbing and flowing through my body and maybe drink some tea while Daddy is keeping the beast occupied.
No comments:
Post a Comment