Motherhood has been a deep struggle, full of setbacks and switchbacks and detours. It’s not a vocation I’d coveted nor was it long-sought. And while I never saw myself being a stay-at-home parent, I was one, for several years. But then I came to a point, whether in reality or just in mind, that it was time for me to move back to the workforce full-time and out of the house.
For many reasons to boring and numerous, it’s just not working out. So, starting in late May, I’ll once again return to full-time, on-site parenthood, but with a new zeal for the job. The small boy has entered a phase of development irresistible and maddening. He makes faces, uses inventive turns of phrase and is becoming a useful helper. And i don’t want to miss it. Even the shitty parts. And there are shitty parts.
I often think of this return to domesticity when I hear love songs about reuniting. It’s not just the boy to which I’m returning, it’s the slower paced, more meaningful live I worked hard to create. And while it might seem weird to draw parallels between a love song and parenthood, so be it. This made me cry today and yearn for the end of May.
“First Day of My Life” (an excerpt)
Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don’t know where I am
Don’t know where I’ve been
But I know where I want to do
And so I thought I’d let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realized that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home