The first couple weeks being back at work were great. I won’t lie.
The quiet bus ride, sipping a latte. The morning chit chat with co-workers where people talked about stuff OTHER than how long their baby did or did not sleep last night. The meetings where tasks were assigned and lists were made. The peaceful time at my desk, being ‘Creative Amanda’, writing scripts, with all my favourite photos of Rhys cycling by in my digital picture frame. The lunches that I could eat, at my own pace. The steaming afternoon coffee that was still hot when I swallowed the last drop. Heck, I even got to be on set again, saying hi and catching up with all the crew members I used work with on a monthly basis in my past life. I was me again. It felt great.
Now that I’ve been back, just shy of a month, it’s dawning on me that waking up at 6am every day, no matter that I only slept for 2 or 3 hours because of a sick, restless toddler, is a permanent reality. That time to blog (and read blogs)and go the gym, oh – and connect with my husband in a meaningful way, are falling off the to do list fast. By the time the evening has unfolded there isn’t any time. I’m not the type of person who will stay up until midnight to ‘get things done’. Sleep is a precious commodity I don’t take for granted. I’ve already experienced afternoons at work where, if only I had a more private work area, I wouldn’t have hesitated to rest my head on my desk and have a power nap.
I am so tired.
The house is messy. The clothes are dirty. The shrubs in the yard are unkempt and unruly. The garbage can in the kitchen is beginning to stink. The potted plants are brown, and yet, they remain on the front steps to greet visitors. The highchair and stroller are caked with smashed cheerios and applesauce. The fridge is full of nutritious food that has wilted and died while I cooked frozen pizza for the 3rd time in a week. And, when there is a moment or two where I could actually clean or be productive in some way, all I want to do is SIT. And beat myself up for not being more energetic.
I’m sure I can’t blame the fatigue entirely on being back at work, because it’s not like I was saving the world in my spare time before. In fact, if I’m being truly honest, I think I’d be even more tired if I wasn’t back at work.
Simply put, Rhys is just a handful these days. I’ve gotta say, 13 months is not my favourite age thus far. He’s walking and exploring which is lovely, but his little world is still revolving solely on his selfish instincts and any time he cannot touch or hold or eat or climb that ONE THING he has his heart set on, it’s a catastrophic event in his mind. He can’t communicate his moods, his preferences, his discomfort, his boredom, his hunger, his fatigue...all he can do is whine and cry and scream and stomp his feet. If I was still at home every day, all day, with him at this stage, I would probably lock myself in the bathroom and cry.
I want to write about this phase, because by writing about it I’m reminding myself that it is, indeed, a phase.
The quiet bus ride, sipping a latte. The morning chit chat with co-workers where people talked about stuff OTHER than how long their baby did or did not sleep last night. The meetings where tasks were assigned and lists were made. The peaceful time at my desk, being ‘Creative Amanda’, writing scripts, with all my favourite photos of Rhys cycling by in my digital picture frame. The lunches that I could eat, at my own pace. The steaming afternoon coffee that was still hot when I swallowed the last drop. Heck, I even got to be on set again, saying hi and catching up with all the crew members I used work with on a monthly basis in my past life. I was me again. It felt great.
Now that I’ve been back, just shy of a month, it’s dawning on me that waking up at 6am every day, no matter that I only slept for 2 or 3 hours because of a sick, restless toddler, is a permanent reality. That time to blog (and read blogs)and go the gym, oh – and connect with my husband in a meaningful way, are falling off the to do list fast. By the time the evening has unfolded there isn’t any time. I’m not the type of person who will stay up until midnight to ‘get things done’. Sleep is a precious commodity I don’t take for granted. I’ve already experienced afternoons at work where, if only I had a more private work area, I wouldn’t have hesitated to rest my head on my desk and have a power nap.
I am so tired.
The house is messy. The clothes are dirty. The shrubs in the yard are unkempt and unruly. The garbage can in the kitchen is beginning to stink. The potted plants are brown, and yet, they remain on the front steps to greet visitors. The highchair and stroller are caked with smashed cheerios and applesauce. The fridge is full of nutritious food that has wilted and died while I cooked frozen pizza for the 3rd time in a week. And, when there is a moment or two where I could actually clean or be productive in some way, all I want to do is SIT. And beat myself up for not being more energetic.
I’m sure I can’t blame the fatigue entirely on being back at work, because it’s not like I was saving the world in my spare time before. In fact, if I’m being truly honest, I think I’d be even more tired if I wasn’t back at work.
Simply put, Rhys is just a handful these days. I’ve gotta say, 13 months is not my favourite age thus far. He’s walking and exploring which is lovely, but his little world is still revolving solely on his selfish instincts and any time he cannot touch or hold or eat or climb that ONE THING he has his heart set on, it’s a catastrophic event in his mind. He can’t communicate his moods, his preferences, his discomfort, his boredom, his hunger, his fatigue...all he can do is whine and cry and scream and stomp his feet. If I was still at home every day, all day, with him at this stage, I would probably lock myself in the bathroom and cry.
I want to write about this phase, because by writing about it I’m reminding myself that it is, indeed, a phase.
4 comments:
Oh man, I TOTALLY feel for you Amanda. I completely get where you're coming from on the phase thing - it's a tough one to wrap my head around most days. Here's to life becoming a bit more manageable soon!
Okay, try to look back and remember those newborn days. You were all adjusting to our new reality, you could not believe how needy this little person was, and it was HARD but you got through it and on to easier, happier days. That will happen again. IT WILL! In the meantime, do not judge yourself for coping the best way you can. And ask for help!
First off, can I be selfish for a moment and say how happy I am to be reading a new entry???? YAY, an update on Amanda's life!
Second. Wow, tough phase. I think there is a reason that we have selective memory when it comes to our children, because otherwise those tough times would seemingly out number the good ones (a smile, giggle, cuddle....all awesome for lifting the spirit but the reality is they only last for a few seconds whereas a tantrum can seem to last FOREVER) and it really can bring you down.
The good news? All your hard work will pay off!!!! Every piece of research out there supports setting healthy limits for your child to help them grow into a well rounded adult. You are doing a great job. And don't forget to take time for yourself too.
I recommend a night with the girls.....or a massage......or massage with girls.....ok I've gone too far.
Ahhhh, I haven't even been there yet, but your descriptions are so vivid I can only dread those times to come (and they will come).
And they will pass, as you well know. It will just take some time. We can throw all the platitudes in the world at you--you know them all, you must be reminding yourself of them often to get you through this phase.
Hang in there. Ask for help. Think about your upcoming vacay. : )
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