Go With the Flow: It's Not Worth It

Today was supposed to be a "good day".

Supposed to be.

I didn't wake up in a bad mood because my child was babbling and fussing away next to me at 7 o'clock in the morning. He still fussed, but I didn't let it bother me.

I had a Guinness cupcake with Bailey's frosting for breakfast.

I made up a menu for the coming week and put together a grocery list.

I emptied the trash can in the bathroom (that thing fills up fast!)

I took a shower! (*gasp*)

So why, with the deck seemingly stacked in my favor, did today fail to be a "good day"?

Because I am a big, big baby.

Everything was fine at first. We went to Target to get some things we've been needing but hadn't gotten around to purchasing yet, like a mail tray for the entryway table and a boot tray for our shoes. Dominic napped in my Mei Tai Baby while we shopped. We headed to Panera for lunch, since it's basically the only place in town with truly meatless menu options. And then...it happened.

I slammed my finger in the car door. Hard.

Those who know me know that I am extremely accident prone, especially when it comes to my fingers and toes. I've stubbed my left pinky toe three times, tearing the ligament each time and resulting in about a month of hobbling around pitifully. People must think I'm some kind of drama queen when I tell them, "I stubbed my toe." Except for me, "I stubbed my toe" really means, "I internally maimed my toe." I digress.

I had just put Dom in my ring sling (I tend to use the ring sling when we go out to eat because he invariably wants to get out and it's so much easier to pop him in and out of a ring sling.) When I went to close the door I must've forgotten to move my hand because there was my ring finger, crushed helplessly in the jaws of our Dodge Stratus. It was so wedged in there that I had to actually open the door again to free it. And BOY did it hurt!

Remember in my birth story where I said I'm a wuss? Here's proof.

I cried. A lot. I mostly cried because it hurt, and because I was mad at myself for being so clumsy. In retrospect I actually think I was upset more because it basically ruined the rest of my day. I wanted to go home immediately and nurse my wound (See? Totally a wuss.) which meant that my brilliant plans for the remainder of our outing would have to be scrapped. So we went home, after pilfering the towel filled with ice lent to us by the nice Panera people. And I sulked on the couch while Nick went back to Panera to get us lunch, because we still had no food.

So what did I learn from all this? I am a big baby. I'm realizing this about myself more and more. I have trouble making the best out of a bad situation. If things don't go the way I plan, I pitch a fit. "It's not FAIR!" is a favorite saying of mine in times of trial. I talk the talk about redemptive suffering, but I certainly don't walk the walk. And that needs to change.

I need to be more flexible. I need to roll with the punches. Otherwise, I will break like a dry twig. It's not worth the impact on my physical and spiritual well-being to be always swimming against the current. And it's not a good example I'm setting for Dominic.

From this day forward "It's not fair" will be stricken from my vocabulary (as will "I hate my life"...because I really don't, I'm just being a baby again). Because being angry about it does no good. And honestly, it's not worth it.

Just Roll With It

I so relate to this post about getting nothing done when you have a baby. It's been a while since I've had the time (and both hands) to sit down and type out a blog post, let alone do the laundry, make dinner, take a shower, wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, sweep the floor, organize the bookshelves, sort through baby clothes, solve world hunger, save the whales. etc, etc.

People, especially those with kids, always have some words of advice to give you when you're pregnant with your first child.

"Your life will never be the same again!"

"Be prepared for some sleepless nights!"

"I hope you're ready!"

My response to these people was always, "Oh yes, we're prepared. We're looking forward to it!" (not referring to the sleepless nights, mind you, as we planned to co-sleep from the beginning). I heard what they were saying, but I never really reflected on what kind of impact this kid would have on our lives until he was born. I was prepared (some would say over-prepared) for my labor and delivery, but what I was not prepared for was the near-complete loss of my independence once he was born.

Don't get me wrong, I love being a mom. There are significant rewards to this lifestyle (the contentedly sleeping child I'm currently "wearing" being one of them...and OMG he just let out a sigh...HOW CUTE IS THAT?!? Ahem...anyway...) However, I have to admit, in all honesty, that there are times when I miss being able to veg out and watch Jane Austen movies all day, or bake whenever I feel the inclination. Nowadays I have to run all my activities by a certain small person, who does not much like my attention being focused on anything but him. He's gotten better at entertaining himself in his bouncer while I do simple tasks like make myself breakfast, throw the laundry in the washer, or take a quick shower, but for the most part, he needs my full attention.

It got better once I became accustomed to babywearing. I learned how to wear him on my back so I could accomplish some things while still fulfilling his need for semi-constant contact. It took a month or so to surrender myself to this new life. I'm not just living for me now. This little guy is depending on me, as his primary caregiver, for all of his physical and emotional needs. The dishes will just have to wait.

Speaking of which, I think someone needs a diaper change...