Transitions

My son has been in Montessori preschool for almost a month now, and we are all beginning to adjust. His days, I'm told, are full of laughter and discovery, and the teachers falling more in love with him all the time. He's a charmer, this one. Of course, when he gets home it's a different story--post-nap irritability, clingy tendencies, tantrums. He really does save the drama for his mama, and he's still adjusting to being away from me. But things are settling down, and I'm no longer crying every day after drop-off, lamenting the milestones I'm missing while he's out of my sight. Often, I see the results of his learning at home, and I feel joyful that he's discovering new things, even if I'm not there for all of them.

Now, I'm focusing more on me. And it's not an easy thing to do.

I really don't feel much like writing about my liminal state--about being in between. But that's what it is. And it's uncomfortable. I want it to be over already, with the next phase fully begun. I'm not there yet, though. I'm not quite sure what I want to do and what is best for all of us, so I'm standing in the unknown.

I'm doing some soul searching and writing, but honestly most of my mornings (I pick him up from school in early afternoon) are full of mind-numbing chores like laundry, dishes and errands, listening to NPR and for a week or so there, binge-watching a TV show while doing so. Now I've stopped doing that and there's a lot of silence. I'm trying to sit with the silent discomfort and not push it away. I have a feeling it has guidance for me.

I could rush out and just get another job quickly, probably. But I have the privilege right now of having some choice. I do need to start bringing income again, but I can sit in the silence for a short time. I can stand in the transition and breathe. There are few things more difficult than dwelling between the not-anymore and the not-yet, but here I am. Dwelling. Or at least lingering in the doorway.

I don't know how to end this post. But that makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

Long-overdue update

I'm back. Yes, I've neglected this blog--easy to do when I imagine no one is reading it. Much has happened since last I posted, including my son E starting Montessori school a couple of weeks ago. I fell away from the blog after I stopped attending weekly writing group meetings for a time--first I had swim class with my son and then I was performing in a play. But I'm planning to get back to the meetings and back to this blog in some form, although I'm not sure I want it to just be a "mommy blog" anymore. It was never really just that anyway.

I've been standing in the space between lately--between one era of my life and a new one. I spent the last 18 months focused almost entirely on my son, not working for most of it and taking on the role of stay-at-home mom, if only temporarily. My daily life and routine revolved around him, and although I felt vaguely bored and discontent at times, at least I felt like I had all the time in the world with him, watching him grow, change and evolve. Now, the window of time I spent with him daily has shrunk, so now it's just part of the afternoon and evening. And if/when I return to work full time, it will shrink again. The era of him needing me so intensely, and of living in this world that was just he-and-I, is over. He still needs me, of course. But his realm is expanding and his time with me is contracting. And although I know it's necessary, it makes my heart deeply ache. And the idea of spending even less time with him hurts even more. So although I want new challenges and passions in my life, I'm afraid to go back to work full time. I'm afraid to spend even less time with him. I'm afraid of that tether that binds us being stretched too far, and him floating away. That he won't feel me there, holding him, being his anchor. That I'll miss too much. That the closeness we have will dissolve. I don't really believe it will, but I also deeply dread the idea of only seeing him an hour or two a day. It's not enough. He's changing and learning too fast for that to be enough. He's my only baby, and every day is precious.

Yet standing here in limbo, between identities and roles, isn't good for me either. I need something more than simply being a mom. I need to be me, expressing all sides of me. I need to work, to express, to advocate, to do something. I just need there to be balance. And balance seems elusive and impossible.

How do people do this? I know they do, but I don't really know how. And I'm standing here in this in-between place, afraid to move, afraid there's no solution.

And eventually, I need to move.