Resolve

Yesterday I went to get my hair done for the first time since the fall. I relished this blessed rare day out of the house alone with Husband at home watching the girls surrounded by a protective circle of any baby items he could possibly need (I have an inability to leave any caregiver, no matter how comfortable and experienced, without absolutely everything they could need within arm's reach. It's probably a "me" thing).

On my way out of the salon, I noticed a few little flakes falling around me-- it was... snowing?

Oh, right. Because it's January and sometimes, when it's winter, there can be snow here in New England. (Fun fact: last year we had so much snow that I got five days off work in January and February. Brutal.)

But it jolted me a bit, despite the ever-dropping temperatures putting a noticeable chill in the air, that winter really was here, and 2012 was here, and the holidays were over. So many times in late pregnancy I remember lusting frustratedly after November like it was the holy grail and somehow I'd never find it. Now I think back to our four-day hospital stay starting on the 11th and almost want to chuckle at my own innocence and inexperience the way an old woman would chuckle at the memory of clumsily holding her first newborn and wondering if she was supporting his head properly. It feels so long ago. It was a different me the way my first-grade self was a a different me-- familiar yet almost unrecognizable.

And still, I find myself in transition. I comfortably refer to myself as "Mummy" or "Mama" with the girls with no sense of strangeness in that title now belonging to me, but when I imagine the world from their perspective, two pairs of big blue eyes staring unquestioningly up at my face (from what is probably an unflattering angle), and that face registering as the absolute and only definition of the "mother"? It gives me pause.

Who am I? If I'm a mother, why do I still feel on so many days like an awkward teenager? I wonder if I'll ever outgrow that feeling that suddenly, 29 (which I hit just a few days ago) isn't actually all that old because it doesn't feel old. And now that I'm on the countdown to 30, a number women are expected to cringe at, I wonder if such an absolute benchmark of adult status will trigger some sort of mental shift in my self-image.

Who am I, and who do I want to be? I feel like a "better me" now but I don't know yet what that means. My brain is telling me to hurry up and read books... lots and lots of books about childrearing and parenting The Right Way. Everything I learned in the process of earning a Master's degree in babies has gone out the window. I suspected it would happen, and it did. I'm relearning, and I want to learn it properly. We're on the cusp of new-babyhood morphing into infanthood, with toddlerhood hiding right around the bend. I could run out of time to start things off properly very soon and have to start over having already made mistakes. As it is, my house doesn't feel clean enough.

I didn't make any new years' resolutions because I sort of forgot about it. Like I said, I'm still in a state of "crap, is it actually January?!" Generally, I make my resolutions on the 3rd, anyways, so that they coincide not with a new calendar year, but with a new year of my own life, but I found this year that birthdays are less about big bright exciting shiny colors and take on more of a matte patina in a pretty neutral tone when you have children, and the specialness of "my day" mellows into a series of small calm and happy moments ("I'll have a nice cup of tea and sit on my own for twenty minutes, and that will be my gift to myself"). Husband took me out to dinner while my parents watched the girls, and we had some nice adult conversation and held hands across the table and stuffed ourselves with delicious food and had cappuccinos at the end of it, and it was perfect, and by the time we returned to the girls I was more than ready to see them again.

I did see a nutritionist back on December 27th, to help get me on track with eating like I did in late pregnancy with my GD diagnosis. So part of how I need to approach the new year-- and parenting, too, in a way-- is with a sense of purpose in how I care for myself, and in taking care of myself so I can properly care for my family in the short- and long-term. I'm looking forward to returning to the gym for the first time in my life because I'll be all alone and not touching anyone else for a little while when I'm there (still need to work out babysitting for that to happen). If I can eat better and go to the gym three days a week for 45 minutes, I'll be on the right track. I really don't want to be overweight and diabetic at 60 and get old before my time, and I want my girls to learn how to take care of (and care about) themselves.

I've had a lot of perspective shifts and perceptual changes in the past few months, and I really think that the direction I want to go in is to maintain that approach and not focus on specific goals ("I want to lose 40 pounds!") because I feel primed to approach life differently now, for the girls' sakes and my own. So what do I want?

I want to slow down and enjoy more little moments in my day.
I want my girls to spend a significant portion of their day getting direct interaction from me.
I want to be calmer, gentler and less judgmental.
I want to be more considerate-- of others, of myself, of my choices. I want to consider what cereal I'm going to eat, I want to consider what I'm about to say. I want to be deliberate and take my time making conscious choices, not impulsive ones.
I want to be more fiscally responsible and organized.
Overall, I want to become the sort of adult and parent I think my children, husband, and I all deserve.