Friday, July 12, 2013

Letting go of me

A friend of mine posted something yesterday that really spoke to the process I feel I go through on a regular basis now.
She talked about letting go: "What I heard was that I would be letting him go and the truth is that I let myself go over and over and over....."  and THIS is exactly my point of this blog. It's more about all the things I wrapped around myself...some of it for protection, other parts for identity, and still other parts for no reason at all (probably just passed down stuff). And with my little person staring at me, with all that innocence and newness, I am forced (okay, gently, non-verbally requested) to look at all of it.

Like decluttering. I started doing it last night. And I have a strange tendency to keep things I don't know what to do with. I resist making a clean break...for the obvious reasons ("This might be that screw that is SO important, that we keep keeping it---but have no idea where it goes!!!"). And yet, when I look at K, he's so...uncluttered. I don't want to pass on my garbage to him. Not the actual garbage or even the stuff I just don't know about. If there's no strong reason to keep it, then why would I do it?

I also tend to hold on to ideas, beliefs, cultural norms, etc., that I'm too lazy to look at.

My mom friends and I are still talking about sleep and food and toys and communication...and I all of a sudden care what people think (okay, I always cared, but I work hard at not caring because in the end, it's me hanging out with me). So I don't want to share my weird ways. Or admit that I don't like going to the doctor if my kid gets sick. Or that we aren't doing a lot of "methods" unless you call "Trial and Error" a parenting method. I also don't want to admit that I'm not worried about my kid. Like hardly ever. In fact, I worry that I'm not worried about that's what comes out when I talk to other moms. He has bruised knees (from crawling on hard surfaces) and dirty fingernails and we don't use soap (I can count on one hand how many times I've put bubbles in the bath). I enjoy that he likes playing with our used yogurt tubs and egg cartons and I cringe when he gets new toys...because he's perfectly happy with the same toys he's had since birth. And in general, he doesn't even like toys...he likes mama's and papa's what looks like "too poor for toys" is really "he doesn't care, so we don't either." I use my intuition. I talk to him like he's an adult when we're alone. I talk to him telepathically when I'm not around him.

But then I hear about "development" and "milestones" and "genetic traits" or "hereditary things." And I freak out. As if the freaking out makes it better. And I tend to downplay any big milestone because I don't want to encourage competition or judgment from other mama friends...because I think I had something to do with it (I know I didn't/don't, in fact, I'm surprised he does anything at all, since I've probably taught him a lot of nothing)...I brush off any "smart" comments, just like I feel weird about any "He's beautiful" comments. As if admitting his charm/beauty would somehow make me a monster and give him a ego...

And in all of this, he doesn't really care. I truly believe that. At 10.5 months, I think he cares about being held, eating, sleeping, smiling, playing (he looks intense when he plays, so that word is funny to me, because it doesn't *seem* relaxing). I'm the one wrapped up in it all. So the letting go is all about me.

I try to keep my writing in this vein...1) because if he ever reads this blog, I want him to feel like it's not an expose on him and 2) because these thoughts are mine. I'm projecting a lot of the time anyway, and that's not fair, since he doesn't get a say, yet.

So the letting go is multi-fold...sometimes it's philosophical, and other times, it's about dumping the unflattering clothes so that I can simply feel well as pay for a damn haircut (instead of getting a cheap one and feeling horrible later) because I like short, neat hair.

Stay tuned for more's gonna be awesome.

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