The Writer vs. The Mother: A Tale of War
So obviously there is no competition between my daughter and my books--my daughter wins, every single time. But, with the help of my wonderful husband who values spending time with our daughter and developing his own one-on-one relationship with her, I am able to squeeze out a few hours to write every day.
Some days I cannot wait to get back to my daughter--I miss her so terribly and I can hardly write because I'm thinking about all the little things--Is he remembering to encourage her to drink water? She had the tiniest bit of diaper rash--what if he doesn't remember coconut oil? Do I hear the TV? Why are they watching TV--it's sunny outside, they should be outside, she loves to be outside--is he on his phone ignoring her?And usually a few diplomatic texts later my worries are abated and I still can't concentrate on writing
...But there are other days when the writer's brain is fully engaged, and being pulled away from the writing feels like be ripped away from food when you haven't eaten in days. I still want to see my baby... But the writer's brain doesn't want to turn off... It was on a role. It had things to do. And it is mad at the mommy brain for not listening to it's case--it needs another hour, the baby will be fine, they sound like they're having fun, you do almost all of the parenting, one more hour won't kill Husband...!!!
But the Mommy brain doesn't listen because if it does than obviously tomorrow we will get into a terrible car accident and the baby will die and I will hate myself forever for that extra hour. So... I guess that is how I balance? Fear of being a bad mother fights with fear of failing to honor the parts of me that are not purely "mother".
Interestingly I get way more done in less time than I did before I was a mother. Before I was a mother I berated myself for any time not spent being productive, but that is no longer an issue--now everything I do is productive. Diaper changers are productive. Reading silly stories, throwing balls, putting hats on the dog, playing one-note-at-a-time songs on the piano, wandering aimlessly through the back yard--all these things are now productive. Even laying on the couch is productive if my baby is on top of me, her little arms wrapped around my torso, her fingers clutching my ribs as she excitedly announces "huggie!"
So, while the writer brain has much less time to come out and play, as a whole being I feel more balanced. While it seems I am always balancing an internal war, it also brings me complete piece. No time is wasted time. No time is unproductive. The writer knows it must use what little time it gets, and this makes it more productive. The mother is always productive. And the A.J. (whatever that being is) can't ever waste time, because all time now relates to the raising of my beautiful wonderful amazing little girl.
Some days I cannot wait to get back to my daughter--I miss her so terribly and I can hardly write because I'm thinking about all the little things--Is he remembering to encourage her to drink water? She had the tiniest bit of diaper rash--what if he doesn't remember coconut oil? Do I hear the TV? Why are they watching TV--it's sunny outside, they should be outside, she loves to be outside--is he on his phone ignoring her?And usually a few diplomatic texts later my worries are abated and I still can't concentrate on writing
...But there are other days when the writer's brain is fully engaged, and being pulled away from the writing feels like be ripped away from food when you haven't eaten in days. I still want to see my baby... But the writer's brain doesn't want to turn off... It was on a role. It had things to do. And it is mad at the mommy brain for not listening to it's case--it needs another hour, the baby will be fine, they sound like they're having fun, you do almost all of the parenting, one more hour won't kill Husband...!!!
But the Mommy brain doesn't listen because if it does than obviously tomorrow we will get into a terrible car accident and the baby will die and I will hate myself forever for that extra hour. So... I guess that is how I balance? Fear of being a bad mother fights with fear of failing to honor the parts of me that are not purely "mother".
Interestingly I get way more done in less time than I did before I was a mother. Before I was a mother I berated myself for any time not spent being productive, but that is no longer an issue--now everything I do is productive. Diaper changers are productive. Reading silly stories, throwing balls, putting hats on the dog, playing one-note-at-a-time songs on the piano, wandering aimlessly through the back yard--all these things are now productive. Even laying on the couch is productive if my baby is on top of me, her little arms wrapped around my torso, her fingers clutching my ribs as she excitedly announces "huggie!"
So, while the writer brain has much less time to come out and play, as a whole being I feel more balanced. While it seems I am always balancing an internal war, it also brings me complete piece. No time is wasted time. No time is unproductive. The writer knows it must use what little time it gets, and this makes it more productive. The mother is always productive. And the A.J. (whatever that being is) can't ever waste time, because all time now relates to the raising of my beautiful wonderful amazing little girl.
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