Finding a Balance

Week Three: I’m still trying to find my balance at the whole stay-at-home mom thing.

The first week at home, as I reported earlier, was really lonely and slow and weird and emotional.

Then, on Wednesday of week two, I discovered Mommy Group.

Mommy Group is hosted by the hospital where I delivered. The first group is for 0-6 month olds; the second is for 6 month to one-year olds. This means I’m slipping into the group and getting to know people just as I’m ready to “graduate” to the next group. Dammit.

Anyway, I showed up to Mommy Group early. I’m particular about punctuality. Always have been. I plan my entire day around arriving early or on time for appointments. This, apparently, is not good practice with moms (or doctors, or hair stylists, or walking buddies, or movies, or dinner dates, or phone calls) because nobody else ever bothers to be on time to anything. This royally annoys me.

Moving on.

I sat on the floor with the girls on a blanket and waited. After a while, other moms with their (singleton) babies started filtering in. We discussed our concerns, observations, struggles, anecdotes. Afterward, most of us went out to lunch. And the whole time, all I could think was braaaainnnnss peeeeople. After being cooped up in the house for a week and a half, I was high on the presence of other adults.

It was like a drug. I needed more.

Through the end of the week and all this week, I kept myself busy. Grocery shopping. Walking. Visiting with other moms. Most embarrassing? I actually went to see Kate from “Jon and Kate Plus 8″ sign her book. I don’t even like her. At all. And yet, here she is in all her spiky-haired glory, taking up space on my camera phone.

But after several days of errands, car rides, meet-ups and missed nap times, the babies couldn’t take anymore. Several epic, sleep-deprived baby meltdowns later, I canceled tomorrow’s mom coffee date. I realized that, shit, I’ve been running all over the place for my own good, not necessarily for my daughters’ entertainment.

My apologies in advance, and I know I’ll regret saying this, and obviously no offense if you currently or previous or plan to have spit-up in your hair for potentially days on end — but I’m scared of turning into a mom who has spit-up in her hair for days on end. Do you know what I mean? I just have this image of Roseanne Barr with corn-chip toenails and hammer toes and a bad perm that I’d really like to avoid.

(Okay, so I’ve actually gone to work with spit-up in my hair. Whatev.)

This is all so new to me and kinda sorta daunting. Being a mom. Being relied on by a crying child who will not be comforted unless I come in to hold her or nurse her.

Maybe . . . maybe . . . what I’m scared of is raising my own babies. I generally feel pretty good about trusting my gut when it comes to being with the girls and doing the right things for them. But that innate self-doubting mechanism kicks in and I wonder what the hell I’m doing trying to raise two babies at the same time. Seriously? Me? The girl who never wanted to get married or have kids?

But at the end of week three, I’m starting to feel okay. Don’t get me wrong — the finances are not a good thing. But emotionally, I feel like this is a new life, a new job, a new purpose. I’m recognizing things about the girls’ behaviors and personalities that I’d wouldn’t so easily see if I were away now. I suspect things will just get more challenging as we start on solid foods (ugh, in the next week or two) and the girls get mobile and vocal. But for now, I’m feeling better and more comfortable with being an at-home mama.