I kind of wish I had started a pattern of having themes inserted into the titles of these posts, as a number of rather thinky thoughts about all things tangentially related to happiness have been dredged up in posts over the past few weeks but no one seeing the subject line would be the wiser. It’s just another day. Another objet de joie. Yawn.
Like this one.
Look, it’s a really nice, big double espresso with coconut creme! I had about three of those yesterday and they were pretty much the highlights of an overall meh day.
So tick box number one for noting the moment of happiness for Day 22. It’s a pretty weak example.
Yesterday was Mother’s Day in a whole bunch of countries around the world, except the one where I’m living now. Theirs was a month or so ago. My parents were here and we drove to pretty Newark and had a lovely lunch and all the women who had spawned got a lovely little bunch of flowers to take home. Thwack obligingly slept through an afternoon’s worth of courses, which was very thoughtful of him.
This time, not so much.
I’m not one to assign much importance to a commercially manufactured day of recognition, but when it fills your Facebook and Twitter feeds while you’re weighted down with a grumbling, kicking baby, you can’t help but think about it.
Howly McFreaksalot was in a crappy mood much of the day. A grey, heavy day at that. A tired day, coasting on several nights of not nearly enough sleep. No energy to cook. Etc.
The usual stuff.
The thing is, those weren’t the bits that bothered me. They’re to be expected when you’ve got a 10 week old baby around the house. They’re trying but manageable.
The thing that’s been the trickiest is related directly to my coffee mug above. Not the coffee, nor the coconut milk, no. It’s the Mummy bit on the side. They were a wedding gift from family, back when I was pregnant. There’s a matching Daddy mug too.
This is an identity thing.
I know I’ve done a number of posts on identity and memory, identity and decontextualization, identity and public presentation, etc, etc, but this is a whole new one and I wish I could label it as such.
Since we moved here and had Thwack, I’ve kind of lost a lot of the things that I thought defined me and made me who I was. I’m not teaching or travelling or writing or seriously taking photos, nor am I keeping up with the mop blog or the wok one. I’m not publicly visible and recognized as a writer reflecting an aspect of a certain city or country (say, Istanbul or Shanghai or China or Sri Lanka). My reader numbers are dismal, but that’s mainly because I’ve done very little to nurture my blogs or my writing in general. My brain has been a bit too fuzzy and distracted to produce much worth looking at. In the city where I’m living, I have yet to find anyone I want to be friends with. I’ve tried, but no clicks yet. No cocktail hours or coffee sessions or brain stirring dialogues whilst out exploring. No colleagues to chat with or classes to teach because I’m not working and unlikely to do so in the near future as childcare costs here amount to pretty much what I can conceivably earn.
It’s a tricky situation.
I’m loathe to define myself through my coffee mug but, quite frankly, Thwack wrangling is pretty much all I do these days. Even now, as I type this, he’s busy dining.
This is still not a Mommy/Mummy blog and, damn it, I’m doing my best to make it as multi-faceted as possible.
It’s just not always possible.
3 Responses
My mom gave me a necklace that says “mom” for Mother’s Day and let me just say, I had emotions. Many of them. And the identity thing? I totally relate. Darwin is 16 months old and I’m starting to feel like I’m getting back to myself, although I also feel like I’ve been feeling it for a long time, like every few weeks something will happen and I’ll recognize the change and think, yup, I’m getting there, this is good. You will make a friend. You will find ways to fill your time that aren’t exclusively mom-related, even if it’s a few minutes here or there. You will blog again and people will read it even if you’re not in a wacky location anymore. (Also, by “you” I really mean “I” although I hope some of these are helpful to hear) The fog will clear eventually.
Kirstin recently posted..in the US
I empathise! I have 2 small girls (‘though to you they’d seem enormous at 3 and a half and 5 and a half) and now it’s fun but I still recall the first months after my eldest was born and what a complete kick to the head the whole entry into Mummy-dom was. My daughter sounds like your pink-bue son – not very good and being left to her own devices. I still shudder with horror at the HOURS of tedium lying on the floor singing nursery rhymes etc. I went quite stir crazy. So good for you on working on a plan to extricate yourself from the mire. Getting out and about by yourself is critical. I started with small steps and hired a baby sitter for 3 or 4 hours a week and would go to the movies (o the glamour) and eventually returned to work 3 days a week when M was 11 months old. Who knew Heaven was an office with my own PC and a deadline requiring me to engage in some serious thought!
Anyway, it will get easier as young Thwack (fab nick name, by the way) gets older and you can pass him to someone else for a while. Keep up the writing – it’s lovely to read.
PS My husband calls me “Mummy” quite a lot. It drives me CRAZY. Still, he’s fabulous on many other fronts so I let peace reign. And I know it’s a family thing – his mother always calls him “Son” and must be the only person who actually buys those “For my son on his birthday” cards. I look forward to my “Daughter-in Law” card each year. It’s now funny…
Thank you! It’s actually really reassuring to read stuff like this. It gives much needed perspective!