I got to a yoga class and out for a delicious run with Olive this weekend, making the space to be alone and to do activities that fuel my body and mind. It is such valuable and important time for Jamie and Sam too. I love coming home and finding them both laughing at one another or strolling around the house, the little prince kicking and squirming in Dad's arms. My time away from the house and from Sam feels so precious, and I struggle with the lack of independence that I once felt while at the same time relishing the moments that I get to spend in Sam's company. It is such a back and forth, a tug-of-war, this juxtaposition between me time and momhood. How they are both needed in order to strengthen the other. How there isn't one right way to be a mother, despite what society or the media tells you. There is only the right way for you. But figuring that out can be sort of tricky. How do I want to mother? How do I find some semblance of balance between breathing space and alone time and being a mom? How do you stop the little voices in your head that compare you to other mothers, worrying whether you have the right stuff or are doing the correct methods at the appropriate time, etc, etc, etc. The awful little voices that leave you with a turned stomach and a bad taste in your mouth. This is a constant wave that I am riding.
I am embarking on a project that will begin in the fall (more details to come as I get braver and more vocal about it) and already just the planning of it, the writing of a grant to see if I can acquire funding, feels heavenly. A surge of energy coursing through me, an inkling of a former self that feels creative, efficient, organized and brave. All clues that this is something I am supposed to do. And I think that having Sam in my life is making me take the leap and put myself out there. I really do. His smiling little face is so full of courage and complete vulnerability and his little being makes me want to be the best mama that I can. And that includes taking risks and maybe even failing.