Mom, Interrupted
I have 20 pounds missing from my gut. Just a big, baby sized hole right through my torso and I'm feeling a little off balance from the sudden lightness. My toddler, Pixie is visiting her grandparents for 8 days and so I've got a week to pretend that I'm something other than a mom and entertain myself in strange, exotic ways.
It's more difficult than I thought to turn off the Mommy switch in my brain and regress to past rhythms. I can't stop obsessing over chokable sized objects on my floor or pointing out dogs on my walks to nobody. I keep talking in my car to myself, forgetting that if no one hears me, it makes me crazy. Yesterday, I found myself watching Sesame Street by myself for a good 10 minutes.
With 20 pounds missing, I do feel much lighter and have a frightening amount of mobility. I'm realizing that the dead weight Pixie provided probably kept me out of a lot of trouble and provided a convenient excuse for any social occasion I wanted to avoid. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my time off, but I'm anxious to get back to what I know best, which is being a frazzled, put-upon mom. My goal for the week is not to do anything too crazy. There is a wild feeling inside me telling me that for the next few days, I need to go nuts and be all the things I can't be as a mom. I've constructed a make-shift filter to keep out the crazier ideas but let a few of the harmless fun ones slip through. I'll be a success story If I am able to pick Pixie up by Saturday and not have any major new piercings or tatoos.
But for today, it's just me and the city. I'm off to stir up some trouble.
It's more difficult than I thought to turn off the Mommy switch in my brain and regress to past rhythms. I can't stop obsessing over chokable sized objects on my floor or pointing out dogs on my walks to nobody. I keep talking in my car to myself, forgetting that if no one hears me, it makes me crazy. Yesterday, I found myself watching Sesame Street by myself for a good 10 minutes.
With 20 pounds missing, I do feel much lighter and have a frightening amount of mobility. I'm realizing that the dead weight Pixie provided probably kept me out of a lot of trouble and provided a convenient excuse for any social occasion I wanted to avoid. Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying my time off, but I'm anxious to get back to what I know best, which is being a frazzled, put-upon mom. My goal for the week is not to do anything too crazy. There is a wild feeling inside me telling me that for the next few days, I need to go nuts and be all the things I can't be as a mom. I've constructed a make-shift filter to keep out the crazier ideas but let a few of the harmless fun ones slip through. I'll be a success story If I am able to pick Pixie up by Saturday and not have any major new piercings or tatoos.
But for today, it's just me and the city. I'm off to stir up some trouble.
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