Fly Away Home

I used to love going home. Love it. In college, I’d stick my stressed out brain and a bag of laundry in the car and head home and the minute I walked in the door all the tests and other crap would just disappear and I’d happily let my mom cook for me while I downed wine with my dad and let the dog slobber all over my jeans. But I’m not a college kid any more, and home is here, in Seattle, with Veggie, Kdog, my crappy kitchen and my basement drowning in 18 loads of laundry. And now when I go “home” to see my family, I bring my stress with me...in the form of a 33 inch (give or take) munchkin who randomly decides to nurse like a newborn and keep me up all hours of the night. I should have known I was in for trouble when mealtimes with Punkin became a losing battle just days before we headed east. But how was I to know his erupting molars and wonky tummy would send him on an all out hunger strike? And no amount of tylenol or infant motrin would seduce him to sleep more than 2 or 3 hours at a time?

Well, I didn’t, and he did, and after many days of sleepless nights and letting him literally suck me dry all day long I finally came to several conclusions (which I may or may not disregard in my fickle way once we’re back to some semblance of normalcy).

1) From now on nursing will be on my terms, dear sir, and no more than, oh....3 times a day? Or is that too harsh? I’ll come up with a number...maybe tomorrow...and then, dammit we’re stickin to it, ya hear me? No more slamming yer head into my chest every time you’re thirsty - you’ll get water and like it! No more furious grunting each time you bonk yer head - can’t we just cuddle and not drain mommy of every last drop of energy she has? Do I sound a bit mean and undone. Well, perhaps that’s because I am. Undone. Thanks to you, little man, I walk around supermarkets with my bra hanging loose cause my brain can’t be bothered with remembering silly details like that.

2) Git out of my bed! Give me back my husband. I want to snuggle with him for a change. You need to learn to sleep. On your own. I’ll be hear for nightmares and sick times, but nothing more. I am drawing the line and taking back my sleep...tomorrow....or maybe next week?

3) I’m taking back my brain. The fog has been lifted. I am not pure-mom material. I must use my brain for things other than feeding, folding, fierce tantrums and foolish fun. I must take time to be away...from the house, the chores, the child, the endless hours of sitting on the living room floor. I am going to seek employment and I wish my boss, for at least part of the week, to be over 4 ft tall and speak in full sentences. Or maybe not. Maybe just for now I’m going to take a few hours each week for myself.

Will I finally cut that umbilical cord? I never bother making New Year’s resolutions...Check back in a few weeks and I’ll tell you just how fickle I really am.