So, I'm not going to beat myself up over that whole Radvent thing. I didn't write everyday - not hardly - but I did read the Princess's entries everyday, and contemplate my own responses as I showered or changed diapers or wrapped gifts or took the baby for a long walk. Some of these contemplations may turn into actual essays or in the future. Or they may not. And that feels good enough for now.
That's my theme for 2011, actually, now that I think about it: Good Enough. Not as in "I half-assed this that and the other thing, and I don't care. Screw it." As in, "I did my best. This worked out. This did not work out. And that is okay."
I'm a perfectionist. I am also a champion self-flagellator. (Self-flagellant? Isn't there a word for this sort of thing? Like those guys in Dan Brown books who moan and pace their cells and beat themselves on the back with a cat o' nine tails?) That's why I fail to complete so many things that I start: if I can't do it to my own obscenely high standards, I am almost incapable of doing it at all. It is not my way to say that something is good enough - that I'm good enough - unless I have given my all, bled myself out, stayed up all night, cried and sweated a project into being. Unless I have wrecked myself for the sake of whatever I'm doing.
Motherhood is starting to change that in me. I want to be a good mother to Adelle. A very good mother. The best. But you learn pretty quickly as a parent that there is so much that is out of your hands. And you learn that you cannot be what your child needs - a calm and steady presence, a warm and comfortable lap, a smiling face, a guide, a rock, a clown, a priest, a home - if you have wrecked yourself in the process.
I spent Adelle's first four months trying to be the perfect mother. I literally poured myself out, literally sacrificed my body (and my mind), over and over, a dozen of times a day, to nurture this small person and help her grow. I would do it again in a second. But my attitude was not sustainable. I resented her for needing me so completely; I feared the judgment of other mothers; I clung to the hormonal roller coaster in a panic; I wanted my old life back; I loved my child desperately; I berated myself for my failings. At some point, I had to accept that this cycle into which I was locked was not going to bring perfection or comfort or happiness to anyone in my family.
So, I am learning to let go. One step in doing so has been to make a list of things I resolve NOT to do this coming year. Some are monumental. Some seem inconsequential but have already made me a saner person. I've never been good at New Years resolutions for reasons I've already mentioned. Perhaps I can be a bit more successful if I let myself off the hook in advance.
11 New Years Releases for 2011
1. Do not fold the cloth napkins after they have been laundered. This is your least favorite household chore. It is time-consuming and boring and nobody cares if they're wrinkly anyway. Toss them into the drawer in a heap and shut it.
2. Declare email bankruptcy. Anyone who has not heard back from you yet is not going to hear back from you ever, at least not about that particular email. Delete as much as possible. Unsubscribe from lists. Start anew.
3. It's okay to drink coffee. Stop saying you're going to quit.
4. Use a few of Adelle's naptimes a week to do something you like, not something you think you should do. Quilt. Read. Write. Surf Facebook.
5. Everybody loves the photos of Adelle that you post, but you don't have to do it everyday. A few times a week is good enough. Also, stop uploading photos to three different sites so various family members can make prints of them. Upload them once to Flickr, with no captions, and be done with it.
6. You do have to stop eating cookies for breakfast and telling your husband that he needs to pick up more butter at the grocery store so you can make yet another sweet treat. The time for that is over. It was fun while it lasted. However, you do not have to starve yourself. Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants. (Thank you, Mr. Pollan.) It would be nice to fit into your work clothes in May.
7. Speaking of work, your anticipated return to the library is definitely going to give you a guilt complex about putting Adelle in daycare. There will be crying. It's okay to cry. But she will be happy with other kids and caring adults. You will be happy doing what you love. Don't let other people give you hassle about it, either. It is a good decision for your family.
8. Yeah, you're flat broke. You need to stop going to Target so much. You need to stop eating out so much. You need to stop needing things that you don't actually need. But try to remember to be generous to others in the midst of this. Keep giving. And buy something lovely and small every once in awhile from someone who makes their living by selling lovely, small things.
9. And speaking of things - get rid of them. Purge the closets and basement boxes and bloated bookshelves. You can do without.
10. Go for more walks. Dance. Engage your core. But sometimes you should laze about in your pajamas and watch television with your husband and stay in bed with your baby.
11. By the way? It's okay that your baby still sleeps in bed with you. It is. Really. It's not going to scar her for life. She will learn to sleep on her own in time. For now, snuggle. Soak up her warmth, and be warm for her. Drink in the first smile of every new day. Smile back.
I think that's enough to start. I have more goals, especially related to the organizational bit, but I'm not going to beat myself up about it. See? I'm keeping my resolute releases already.
i love you, kbj.