You see, I'm think I'm jealous of people who don't have kids. Not jealous all the time, mind you, but a wee bit jealous. I think these feelings have started after observing our neighbors. We live on a large property where we have the house in the front, and our neighbors live in the converted stable house in back. Mind you, because the land parcels are big out here in "rural" Santa Barbara, I think their house is farther away than any of our neighbors back in San Diego, including the ones who lived across the street. For the first few months here, we kept apologizing about Scupper barking at them each time they went to their car in our shared driveway or said hi when we were swinging Stella on the swings. I think we were both trying to respect each other's privacy. However, after Christmas, I finally decided that we needed to have them over for dinner, or hell, at least lunch, and have tried to make more of an effort to be neighborly. They are our age, and until recently, the woman worked from home. So we gingerly struck up a relationship, and now we've started running together 2-3 mornings a week, and share recipes, leftovers, and gardening tips. Her husband is a lot like Steve, in the fact that he's a bit quiet around other people, and does his own thing. But my growing relationship with D. has been nice - like me, she's the more outgoing of the couple, and is into thrift stores, finding good deals, shopping the bargain bread rack at the grocery store, etc.
However, I have found myself, as of late, watching her come and go, and the freedom associated with that, with a bit of jealously. She comes home from work and gardens in the yard until the sun sets. Her and her husband hop in the car some nights at 9pm, presumably to meet friends, catch a late bite to eat, even play racquetball, she told me. Maybe it's because we don't indulge in babysitting often or the fact that we have no family here to which we could share Stella with for a few hours to run out by ourselves, but I miss the freedom that comes with not having children or pets.
And yet, as I snuggled my daughter against my chest last night, breathing the lovely scent of fresh washed hair, listing to her gentle breathing, I couldn't imagine how my life would be without her. I had such joy watching her play in rain on Sunday... watching her send air kisses to the neighborhood horses on our walk yesterday, marveling at the utter happiness on her face to see the nearby farm's pig and goat... taking pride at the fact that she ate almost all her quinoa and broccoli stir fry last night with a fork (and tried a bit with chopsticks!) Experiencing the world anew through her nascent eyes has brought such happiness to me that I'm not sure why at times, I stare wistfully out the window wondering what it might be like if we had never decided to have kids.
As with everything, I'm sure that this is "just a phase..." That the exhaustion of parenthood ebbs and flows. That the need for "Mama" almost 24/7 will disappear and I will feel a loss. I think these honest feelings about motherhood could be why I don't seem to meet people on the playgrounds... where I see a mother with 3 kids under 5 and say, wow, how do you do it? she smiles sweetly back, why, it's a joy, or it's not hard... I wonder if she's really telling the truth, or if she's figured something out that I don't know.
On happier note, Stella is talking up a storm - and sometimes we understand her and sometimes we don't, but the words are coming much better than a month ago. Open is still "be-pen," moon is still "loon," and home is still "moam" for reasons we aren't sure, but damn if she can't say "cream cheese." At least her priorities are in the right place. ;)
3 comments:
Your honest thoughts are often mine, too, and I for one am glad you shared them. For what it's worth (from our vast six years experience), I think that young toddlerhood is absolutely the most demanding, draining, exhausting part of parenting. Everyone keeps telling me the teen years are worse, and maybe they will be. But I think those people forget what it's like to be the constant caretaker of a small, irrational being who needs you absolutely every moment of the day (unless some other adult is in charge), who has no interest in you as a separate being with separate interests or concerns, and who is figuring out the most basic life lessons, often through tedious, messy, or maddening trial & error methods. Hell ya we love 'em, but there's no freedom at all in these years.
You may not have family in town, but you do have friends who love you all, and we aren't too far away. We're bummed that you guys didn't make it down this weekend, but when Ape and I come up we want to visit with you and Steve AND give you a night to go be kid-free :)
Aimee. It's hard. Sometimes I think that those who think it's easy might not be putting in all they could be...but maybe I'm just trying to make myself feel better, as it's 4:45PM and neither me nor my child are dressed. ;) xo Sum
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