Sunday, October 6, 2013

Shhhh mama

It's 9 AM on a Sunday.  I am sitting on my couch with a blanket on my legs, a baby propped up on one shoulder, and my three year old nestled into my other armpit, her elbow occasionally jabbing me in the ribcage.  We are watching SuperWhy.

"Mommy, do I have bones in my wrist?  I have bones in my wrist.  They make me wiggle.  Wiggle wiggle wiggle!"

Wiggle wiggle wiggle.  Jab.

"Shhhh.   Watch the show honey."  Snuggle snuggle snuggle.

We've been up since 6:30.  Thank God for the TV amiright?


The monologue in my head goes kind of like this.

You watch too much TV.  

You should be reading to her, playing with her.  You're breaking her, you're letting her down.

You should be cleaning the house.  You should be folding laundry.  You've been up for 2.5 hours and you haven't accomplished a damn thing.  How can you complain that you don't have enough time and then sit on the couch with the TV on and the computer in your lap for 2.5 hours?

You should be changing the world.  Your friends are changing the world.  You need to do something that matters.  You don't matter.

You should be saying witty and charming and funny things online.  You should be coming up with wise and tender solutions to other people's problems.  You need to make people love you because otherwise, why on earth would they?

You shouldn't be online at all.  You should be able to unplug.  You shouldn't care what anyone thinks of you.  You are shallow and empty and needy and superlame and maybe addicted to the Internet.

The baby starts nestling into my tank top and I left my shirt to let her nurse again.  BG bumps her head against her sister's, and the little one starts giggling and unlatches.  I spray everywhere.

"Mommy, Baby Sister has milk on her head.  Why does she have milk on her head?"

It's 9:20 on a Sunday morning.  I've made milk and fed a person from my body.  I've changed diapers, poured cereal, cleaned up spilled juice.  I've watched Sesame Street and read three Olivia books.  I've put my feet up and been silent and sat with discomfort, both from the self doubt and the elbow in my ribs.

Shh, mama.  Just watch the show.  Snuggle snuggle snuggle.

1 comment:

  1. Oh my sweet friend, you are shoulding yourself so much. I love you because of who you are, not because of what you do.