To Everything There Is a Season...Turn Turn Turn

The Byrds version please, not ecclesiastes.

Perhaps you may have noticed that my last several posts have been bitter. Strained.. Tense as it were. Yep, me too. It's frustratiing because I don't go through my days that way. Or exactly that way. But lately. Well, let's just say lately I've been less then perky..

"Why?," you ask. I have been asking myself the same thing. My home is good, my "husband" delightful, there's money in the bank, food on the stove (or in the plastic takeout container more realistically), I've got shoes on my feet, a new garden to tend. I enjoy Ellie, we have great days, the weather is spectacular. Life is good. Life is Very Good. So why the long face?

"It's having a baby," they say "You're tired."
"You're just feeling isolated," he suggests.
"You miss talking to other adults," she offered.

But none of those feel like the real answer.

"Think think think" I think. I'm frustrated. Something is bugging me but what?

So I called up Sheena, my old, now active therapist from days on yon.

"What's the matter with me?" I asked.

"There's no measurement." she replied. (Not as quickly as all that. She took about 40 minutes to get there.)

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, " she said. "You have no way of knowing how you are doing. There's no progress reports, no one on one's, no merit review. You're working everyday at this new job but you aren't getting any feedback."

I quickly protest "Doug's happy. He tells me he's happy. Ellie's doing great." I gesture to Ellie smiling in her pumpkin seat.

"Yes, I'm sure." she smiled at me. "But YOU need to know how you are doing. Comparatively."

I was aghast. "I don't want to be competitive! I want to be good at being a mom but I'm not looking to be in a contest." I protested.

"I'm sure your not" and she said as she earnestly leaned forward. "But if that's not exactly it, what parts of it do you think might be true."

So I thought about it.

"I think I'm failing." I said. "Not at being a mother, that seems to be the only part I get right. But daily, I question everything I do. I can't seem to make decisions. I want the house to look nice, so I buy curtains and comforters but end up returning them. I try to shop for Ellie and leave stores upset because I can't figure out her size. I spend 15 minutes at CVS buying diapers, and then question wether I could have gotten the cheaper at Target. I can't plan a meal. I can't decide which gym to join. I've tried shopping for myself and don't know how. I'm frustrating Doug. I'm frustrating myself. I tried to hire a mother's helper, and it ended up disastrously. The cleaning woman turned out to be a nut job. I'm afraid the garden will die because I won't take care of it properly. It feels like I'm bad at everything I do."

I paused. Then:

"You know, I've always walked up to the sale rack and picked the best option of what was on sale. I've never walked into a store with the idea "This is what I want" but always "What is the best I can find that I can settle for." And that reality is sort of a metaphor for my life. I know I want to join a gym but I'm so upset because I can't make a simple decision about it. I can join down the block but there is no childcare. So I'd have to go at night. It's only $27. But I could ALSO join the Y. It has childcare and a pool. But it's $85. Will I use it? If I join the Y Ellie can have swimming lessons. And do the Tumble Tots next year. So do I join now, while the weather is nice? Or should I wait until November when she's six months and can join swim and I can't walk outside any longer. $85 is a lot of money. Plus I won't meet many moms. What about Stroller Striders? I like that but I didn't really get a workout. But there are lots of moms. Can I do both? No, that's too much money."

I stop. Paralyzed. Frustrated. "See, this is what I mean. I can't make a decision about anything!"

She laughed at me. "You aren't bad at anything you do. Think about it. You are learning how to be a homeowner, a decorator, a gardener, a mother, a wife, a neighbor, and a cook. That's a lot to take on. And you don't have any resources to do this. You are trying things you've never tried before. You've never owned a house, you've never lived with anyone, you've never had to plan family meals. Everything you are doing you are doing for the first time, and OF COURSE it's unfamiliar. That doesn't mean you are making mistakes, it just means that you are learning."

So I let it sit with me for a bit.
And I think she's right.