This morning I fell asleep (yes, this morning. It was about 4:00am) with the comforting that thought that in the morning I would go check into the psych ward of our local hospital. I am not kidding you, that this thought brought me comfort and peace. I was literally at the point of thinking that maybe I could go in there, and tell them to commit me for 48 hours or something -- and maybe then I would get 8 hours of sleep. And when I woke up maybe no one would be whining at me for something. And I could just sit and think. Alone. But then I started thinking about movies I've seen with psych wards... and those movies scare me. And then I couldn't really fall asleep. So then I thought about going to the police station and confessing to some random crime, and seeing if they would put me into solitary confinement for a few hours - at least 10. What kind of crime has that punishment? 10 hours of solitary confinement is exactly what I need right now.
Yes - I am crazy right now. And yes - it has a lot to do with my last post about bye-bye binkies. And yes it has a lot to do with the fact that I've become the little old woman who lives in a shoe (ya know the one with too many children she didn't know what to do...). I used to think that poem was so mean. It made me sad to think about her "whipping them all soundly and sending them to bed". Now it sounds about right.
When I was in college my roommates got me a doll. Little Walby. Because I wanted a baby in the worst way. I had these idealistic images of motherhood. I longed for the days I would hear little people call me "mama". I used to walk the baby aisles of super stores and just smell the sweet smell of baby lotion. At church I was always looking for a baby to hold. I made a majority of my income from babysitting. This was all before I was married! Once I was married the desire for children was SO intense I spent many nights crying because my dream wasn't yet fulfilled.
And here it is. 7 years later... 1:05pm... I am in pajamas. I can smell the pile of dirty laundry next to me, that I've been putting off getting done for officially over a week now. I hear the pitter-patter of little feet that should be sleeping. By my feet are baby toys, and a dirty diaper that hasn't found its way to the trash can yet. I haven't slept for 8 straight hours since the middle of my pregnancy with my now 4 month old son. The same son who I love to pieces - but have never been away from for more than 3 hours since his conception. Those dreams of motherhood seem so... naive now.
But I imagine this is how a lot of people feel when they realize they are living their dream. Like - really... this is what I was longing for so badly?? And at moments it can seem like maybe this isn't what I wanted after all. But those are just moments. What matters are the moments at the end of the day when I realize, Wow I am living my dream. And it is incredible. I am shaping these little people. Helping them find their way. Taking care of them. Loving them. And they love me. Oh boy do they love me. So unconditionally. They teach me more than I ever could have learned in any other way. As hard as the days can be... and the nights... it really is all worth it.
And for those of you worried about me - I got a good 4 hours of sleep after imagining solitary confinement. I woke up ready to face the day -- and not drive myself to the mental hospital or prison. And tonight Aaron has promised me 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep. I am going to sleep in our playroom at 9:00pm and no one will wake up me up until at least 6:00am. I am giddy at the thought of this.