Chasing Rabbits And Herding Cats

If you chase two rabbits, both will escape.
- Unknown Author

This has been the story of my life the past few weeks. I've written about it on here before, and thankfully things have slowed down quite a bit since that morning when I drove off without my daughter.

Sadly, I realized the other day that Little W is 6 months old. Six months. Half of her first year of life has already passed me by. The time when she will change the most, grow the most, has already happened. It went so quickly, and I don't feel like I really got the chance to enjoy it.

I desperately want to roll the clock back and trade all those stupid PTA meetings and events for more time with her. All the waisted hours making phone calls instead of just sitting and enjoying nursing her or just holding her.

I knew it would go fast. I knew I wouldn't remember everything, and yet, I still didn't manage to find the time to take more pictures or videos of her. Other than a few very dark pictures from the day she was born, I really don't have any pictures of her and I together as a newborn.

I feel pretty lucky that this time around I've managed to hold the PPD at bay, but I find myself wondering if it isn't starting to creep in. I also wonder if my heart is trying to talk my brain into a third baby, something that just isn't in the cards.

I think I'm having such a hard time with Little W growing up because I know that she will be the last baby I nurse, the last baby I snuggle and coo to that is just mine. Someday I'll have grandbabies (probably), but that's different.

I had difficulty coming to terms with my pregnancy when I was carrying Little W. I found myself wishing everything away. I was so busy worrying about how it was all going to work out that I missed out on the joy. I didn't take the time to just stop and enjoy the feeling of life growing inside me. Now I look back and think, "What I wouldn't give to have just one more day of my pregnancy back."

This is all new emotional ground for me. With The Angry Midget, I didn't have all these regrets, I didn't have the sense of loss as she grew older. For a long time I planned to have more children, and I figured that if I missed something, there was always the next one. I think some of that might have been the PPD talking. It made it hard for me to connect with The Angry Midget, and it made it really hard to feel anything in general.

Now I know that this is my last shot, and I don't want to miss anything.

But I've already missed six months.

#Momfail

On Twitter, thousands of moms find themselves on #momfail every day. Whether they put themselves there, or someone else put them there is irrelevant. Today, I found myself joining the long line of failed moms.

In my last post I talked about how stressed I was, and how it just didn't seem like I had enough time in the day.

This morning, the most important of all the balls I've been juggling lately hit the ground.

I was in such a rush to get to the school to decorate a room for a bunch of strangers that I actually drove off without my older daughter.

I thought she was in the car already. She was talking to me in her usual constant stream of chatter. telling me all the things that go through her 6 year old mind. I saw her throw her back pack in the car as I clicked her sister's car seat into it's base. I could have sworn I heard her door shut just after I shut mine. So I put the car in gear and started down the drive way.

I was not ready for what happened next.

Mid-sentence, possibly even mid word, she started screaming, "Mom, MOM! MAMA!! WAIT, MAMA, WAIT!"

I turned around and realized that I had pulled away before she got in the car.

The door was hanging open, and she was standing at the top of the driveway crying hysterically. Tears were running down her face, and she was sobbing in great heaving, hiccupy sobs.

I felt sick.

Did I run over her foot?

I motioned for her to come get in the car, and she ran full tilt down the driveway.

She got in the car and through her sobs asked, "Why did you leave me?"

I apologized, and asked her if she was hurt. She said no, and I apologized some more. I waited while she closed the door and got her buckles hooked and apologized some more. All the way to school I held her hand and apologized. I walked her up to her classroom (something I haven'd done for almost a year because she's a big kid now) and apologized some more. I hugged and kissed her several times in the hallway, and helped her get into her classroom.

I still felt sick, but worse than that, I felt like I let her down.

When she was born, I stayed home with her for two years. Then finances required me to go back to work, and I hated it. I felt stressed and rushed with her all the time, and I missed out on a lot of firsts because of the hours I worked. I remember thinking to myself that this is not how it's supposed to be, and that if I ever had another baby I wouldn't let it be like this.

Fast-forward four years, and here I am with a new baby. I don't have a time clock to punch, but I'm still stressed and rushed to the point that I drove off without one of my children.

I vaguely remember the days when I could focus my full attention on just one thought, task or idea. Now if I'm not doing at least two things at once, I feel like I'm letting someone down. While folding laundry, I was composing this blog post in my head. Now, I'm breastfeeding while I type, and monitoring homework progress.

After the incident this morning, I took a step back and looked at what my life had become. I rush from commitment to commitment, hurrying my children along so I don't let others (often strangers) down.

My life had become a juggling act.

Crituque group
PTA
Fundraisers
Staff Appreciation Week
Dance classes
Laundry
House keeping
Book club
Play dates
Mother's groups
Parenting groups
Support groups
School activities
Knitting
Various random promises to The Angry Midget
Birthday parties
Baby showers
Doctor appointments
An endless list of errands and chores...

All things I enjoy. Well, at least I used to...

It suddenly became very clear to me that with all this juggling, I was simply touching everything briefly, often not even long enough to enjoy it.

I wasn't really holding anything at all, and somewhere in that mix was my family.

Soon, some of those balls will go back in the basket. I'll have to think long and hard about whether or not I'll get them back out again when the time comes. Other's I can let slip down to my pocket for a while. Maybe I'll get them back out, maybe I'll put them in a basket. Then there are the ones that never go away. The ones I have to keep to make sure life is comfortable, like grocery shopping and laundry. But the three that are out of the rotation for good are my family.

I'm not going to juggle them anymore.

They will be held.

Just as they should be.

Together, and close to my heart.