Random Thoughts.

Now that I'm a mother, I have a million questions that I wish I could ask my own mom. Did she enjoy domesticity? Did she ever feel resentful? Did she use cloth or disposable diapers? When did she start feeding me cereal? Did I like it? Did she have trouble getting me to sleep through the night? How did she manage to return to work when I was 3 months old? These are things I never thought to ask her about until they became relevant to my life. I am so wistful. I wish so much that I could pick up the phone and call her. Does anyone know the number for heaven?

I have learned that I'm anemic. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It's common enough, but I still feel sort of ripped off, you know? I have to take these iron pills now and I've never had to take anything before because I've managed to keep a very careful diet. At least I now understand (and am getting treated for) the dizziness and fainting. It was getting scary there for awhile. I never knew when it would come on and I was so afraid that I'd faint while holding Josh.

I'm way too confessional. As soon as something happens in my life, I want to tell everyone I know about it. More often than not, I end up embarrassing myself, or worse, jinxing things. I need to learn how to shut up, ride the wave, and make it back to shore without flailing like a drowning woman.

While Josh isn't the cutest baby I've ever seen, he is definitely a likeable guy. I get so many comments about how friendly and bright he is. I'm just going to go ahead and take that as a compliment because I don't really have much else going on right now that's praiseworthy.

I have a pile of dirty clothes in my bedroom that resembles a mountain. Seriously. I am thinking about scaling it so I can get some press coverage about my perseverance and bravery and all that. "Local mom climbs Laundry Everest. Details at 11". Yessssssssss.

I have this friend named Trent who asked if I'd like to visit him and when I wrote him an email saying yes, I'd really like that, he ignored me. I've been punked.

Yesterday, I got to go back to the gym for the first time since October, thanks to my very special friends Sharon and Shannon who watched Josh for me. As soon as I stepped onto the elliptical, I felt a rush backwards -- into everything that I used to be before having a baby. In shape. Depressed (but working on it.) Powerful, despite everything. It was such a trip. I spent the saddest months of my life on the elliptical and stairmaster. Somehow, when I got on them, everything else became manageable, and the same was true yesterday, too. After I got past the first 10 minutes, I felt like I could keep going indefinitely, and to be honest, it was tempting. For a short while, it didn't matter that I'm not his prize and never will be, it didn't matter that I'm a single mother of a baby who never sleeps longer than 2.5 hours at a time, it didn't matter that I feel trapped in my life... I just zoned out and got a little bit high on the endorphins. It sure beats the old coping mechanisms of my past -- wine, cigarettes and pills.

I didn't want to leave the gym, but I didn't want to take advantage of Sharon and Shannon's goodwill. Walking back to their apartment, I felt totally free. I was able to just walk down the street without worrying about the wind blowing too strongly in Josh's face. I was able to go into the Second Cup without trying to wrangle the stroller through the door. I was able to go to the bank without worrying about him freaking out and throwing a fit that would cause everyone to look at me like I'm a terrible mother. For a moment, yesterday, I had myself back and it was glorious. I didn't feel the desperation I do day in and day out (which I think allows me to obsess about the Boy Who Will Never Love Me.) I felt so good, I wanted to spin around and throw my hat in the air. It was a little bit like heroin, I think.

I stared at Josh for a long time this morning, rocking back and forth in his swing. He's had a really rough few days, but this morning, he looked so calm and content and just... sweet. I didn't have to do anything to maintain that state in him; it was almost like he was resigned to it. I thought to myself, "If I don't get to have the complete family, thank God I at least have him."



Today I'm in the process of gathering up his stuff to send it back.


Ow. ow. owowow.

It's 3:30 a.m. I am up with a baby who's screamed for over an hour now. It's these times that make the loneliness louder.

How I wish things were different.

One more thing.

I've talked about Anne Lamott a lot. She's my hero, really and truly. She and I have such similar life situations that I sometimes feel she's channelling me, or that we're living in parallel universes or something equally Twilight Zone.

I have been reading (for the third time) her book called Operating Instructions. It's a journal of her son's first year of life (she's a single mother, too). Yesterday on my way home I read this:

"I'm so hungry for a partner, a lover. One thing I know for sure, though, is that when you are hungry, it is an act of wisdom each time you turn down a spoonful if you know that the food is poisoned."

I'm not the kind of girl who takes the bad thing, just because it's available, and because it's better than nothing. I've been very content to take the nothing instead. In that moment yesterday, it was good to be reminded of that.