u s e y o u r h a n d s

Lately, people have been cautioning me to “cherish these months” and to “savor each moment because these are the best times.” What the fuck are these people smoking?

Having a pre-walker, -talker with precarious balance and a ravenous appetite is not pleasant. He’s learning how to pinch, has mastered hair pulling. Yes, my child is smiley and genuinely happy and a fairly independent player. But for me, these are not the best of times. He’s still incredibly clingy when I’m really craving my own space. There aren’t a lot of public places where i can take him and let him roam free and this kid likes to explore.

But, really, these are not months I’m going to cherish because I am still so uncomfortable in my new, lumpy body, can’t sleep well, eat terribly, and feel so overwhelmed by managing a baby, a home, a garden, and my volunteer work. I’m tired. I want to be taken care of. And I’m angry that our culture, most people, maybe even myself considers staying at home with your kid to be lazy and not worth recognizing.

Mainly, I’m tired. And still sad. And I will not want to remember this.

THE TOOTH, whose had been promising to move in to Gus’ mouth for some months now, finally dropped anchor yesterday. He promises to stay for at least the mid-term, still offering nothing but pain and confusion, like a randomly assigned college roommate who insists on smoking cloves and bringing home random people of either gender.

Gus is clingy and whiny and insists on screaming while bending himself backward in half. But maybe when this tooth is finally moved in, he’ll stop being annoying and just go back to being terrifying … and adorable.

When I worked at a downtown Chicago ad agency, I had big, important things to do. Clients sent me overseas and across the country. I went to award shows and had gallons of drinks. I was snarky and political.

And now, wow. I’m not where I’d like to be, certainly, and aspects of that old me still come out. But I’m so different. I fight for things worth fighting for, like a new playground for Gus, a better school, a more connected community. I find joy in small, simple things, like watching the same tree change color, warm, clean cloth diapers, and the feel of Gus’s fingers touch my face.

I never would have thought this would be my lovely life.