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Curiouser and curiouser

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Oh, I feel peculiar lately. Like my contrast has been turned down and my lines blurred. I feel like I’m three feet outside my body, looking at myself and thinking, “Hmm” on repeat

I don’t know what it is, this odd sort of melancholy that sits around my shoulders. It sounds a bit romantic maybe, but in real life, without the accompanying moody soundtrack it looks a lot like me mooning about not getting anything done of any consequence. Making plans and breaking them. Starting things and vowing things and talking myself into things and then just… drifting off midsentence.

It’s quite inconvenient, really. I have things to do, I have to be a mom and a wife and a family member and a friend and a productive member of society.

It’s also quiet confounding because usually this type of malaise hits mid-winter when I sit in my living room and realize I haven’t left the house for three days because ugh and Vitamin D? What’s that?

But it’s summer here. And it’s sunny here. And also, I usually write more when I am all introspective and naval-gazing (although in my case it’s usually cuticle gazing because for some reason I spend a lot of time staring at my feet and seriously, what is with my feet? I need a pedicure. I should get a pedicure. But, then again….ugh.)

I can’t write lately though, because the thing is, I sit here and I love this WordPress space – like, seriously love it as in kissing with tongue – but holy shit guys there are a LOT of blogs out there.

A lot.

Not that I used to think there were just eighteen, but I just. I mean, I don’t know where these words are going.

You know?

Before that hasn’t really mattered because I need to write, and I tend to write more when I’m all despondent and morose, because it helps me figure out exactly what the hell my tortured, sensitive soul is despondent and/or morose about this time. Writing feeds me.

Except lately, it doesn’t? Which is a problem because I heard back from my editor about the first draft of the book and good news, she liked it. Bad news (or good news?) they would like another chapter or two. And that involves writing (obviously.)

Also we’re scrapping over titles, and I am stubbornly attached to one that sort of doesn’t make sense but it does, it does I just feel it in my bones. But I’m second guessing myself because I’m bad at titles, I always have been. When I wrote for the paper my editor there always had to write my headlines for me. Being clear and concise has never been my strong suit (0bviously.)

So.

Possible Causes for All of The Angst:

  • Our rootlessness. It has been four months since I slept in my own bed or saw my books or had our own space, and it’s just a bit difficult and getting a bit ridiculous and conversations are being had that sound more like arguments and how long do we wait? Adam so wants to be here, and I so want him to be here because I want him to get what he wants (finally) because he deserves it. But seriously, how long do we wait? This is not rhetorical. I am horrible at making decisions. Tell me.
  • Olive turning 1 in exactly three months. I’m surprised by how sad I feel. Did not see that one coming. I thought I would be all, “Yay! A party!” but I’m actually more, “Wait- what?!”. There have been so many changes coming so rapidly lately. She can sit up from lying down, and stand up from sitting, and jerkily maneuver herself around pieces of furniture and I put her in one place and turn my back for a second and she is across the room, grinning at me as she dangles precariously off the arm of a sofa. Also, that grin has a tooth. While we were away she sprouted a single solitary baby tooth, her lower right, and I cried. I honestly cried. What is happening.
  • The end of maternity leave. Olive turning 1 in three months means I am officially off maternity leave in two and a half months. And that’s all I can say about that without more crying.

 

If you’re new here, I promise I used to be 100% more funny and like, at least 70-80% less crying.

(Maybe more!)

Dig through my archives. You’ll find a gem or two. Old readers, maybe you could help a sister out and mention your old favourites in the comments? It’ll be like one of those clip shows we all hated.

In the meantime, I’ll try and get my mojo back.

xo

M

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7 Comments

  • Reply deadbeatmom July 5, 2013 at 7:28 AM

    With a risk of sounding like a know-it-all mama, we are all there at some point or another. Motherhood has a way of making you feel like you are half-assed at everything. Reality check is that most of us working moms have no choice to spread ourselves too thin.
    The downside (as I see it) to not working is that your entire identity hinges on the success or failures of your child. A double-edged sword indeed.

    I totally didn’t weep with every baby milestone the first two times around. But with my third and final boy the feeling that I am going to blink and 20 years will have passed is palpable–especially as he approaches his 1st birthday in August (sigh).

    Women, especially new moms, are so damn hard on ourselves. Motherhood is magical. But it’s also boring, infuriating and just kind of insanity making on so many levels. Go easy on yourself and have a glass of wine (but not more than a few or you’ll be writing the follow up to Drunk Mom!

  • Reply Jennifer July 5, 2013 at 7:32 AM

    Cupcakes – def the cupcakes

  • Reply Jenn and Zac July 5, 2013 at 9:48 AM

    Ditto Madeline, I am feeling the same lately. Want to schedule a park date with the little ones to force us both out of the house?

  • Reply Ashley Austrew July 5, 2013 at 1:11 PM

    I’ve been dealing with a lot of the same. I always tend to write more when I’m angsty, but lately it’s like even my angst can’t get out of its own way. Maybe it’s a seasonal thing? Maybe we’re going through a creative drought?

    Babies growing up is hard. The one thing I can tell you with certainty is that–as much as you just want to preserve that baby-ness forever and ever–there is also nothing like when they can say “tanks [thanks], mama” when you hand them a cup of water, or know what to do when you ask if you can pretty please have a kiss. It’s hard, but you’re moving into a stage of just…so much to look forward to. Even more than you can possibly imagine. Its wondrous. It involves letting go of what has been, which is the absolute hardest part of being a mom, but it’s also a transition into a different kind of magic.

    Resist the urge to be hard on yourself. You’ll right yourself in no time. And, then, you know, get back to “writing” yourself, as well 🙂

    • Reply sweetmadeleine July 6, 2013 at 11:24 AM

      Oh that’s a good thing to remind myself – all of the amazing things to come. So far it has just gotten better and better and more fun, so I should just remind myself of that whenever I start getting all sentimental mom about it 😉
      Thanks, Ashley.

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