What does it look like, this deuxmumpreneur gig? Well I love being sleep deprived. I get to invent shamelessly pretentious words like that. What a great excuse – and I’m going to ROCK it until people start to notice it’s just the natural crazy leaking out.
Two months with two babes. Tireder than the world. I have made approx 17 silk scarves. Productivity at an all time low, I’m writing this with my THUMB on my PHONE, with Goldie squeak-breathing in the crook of a very sore arm. I’m feeling damn sorry for myself, and this morning I’m not going to let myself apologise for that too.
What would SHE think of everything so far? Life, us as a family, constantly being showered in corn thin crumbs from above?
Memoir of a Two Month Old:
“The female’s mouth is always moving. Making crunchy sounds, yelling sounds, sipping, singing, shrieking and snoring. She smells. Don’t know what like, if I like it, even if she’s supposed to smell like that.
She panics a lot. Scares the shit out of me, so I cry and she panics some more.”
If everything in my world is about Goldie, I read here in this that I would make everything in hers about me. Side serving of codependence with the corn thins..?
If having a child changes your life, having another changes your world.
From the obvious and the mundane to the internal and existential, it’s a new game.
Another mum asked what I was doing with the business when she heard we were expecting – I was utterly perplexed. What did she mean? What was I supposed to do? Sell it or give it away? Pack it all up? Throw in the towel and never look back?
I know that’s not what she actually meant.
I just had no idea how different it would be – the zookeeper of two shrieking sprites – from frolicking about in an acceptable amount of mess with only one.
One plus one equals one crazy mamma.
They say it’s okay to slow down with a newborn, to pause. Stuff that.
I don’t want to.
Of course I want to be there for my babe, but I don’t want to stifle the two shreds of my own self I have left.
I do want to keep creating. My head is brimming with so many thoughts and plans I don’t even hear most of the people around me call my name. I’m somewhere else.
Goldie’s cries are probably the only noise that cuts through that stubborn wall of mine. And when I come rushing back to her – usually only two feet away from me – I admit despair.
How do I do it all?
It’s okay to slow down. It’s okay for your baby, your family, yourself.
But the truth everyone glosses over is the sad fact that it’s not so okay for your business.
There’s never a competition when it comes down to a choice between your babies and some conceptual thing you’ve made up with your dreams.
But the sadness, the frustration never goes away. You watch yourself do things at the pace of a fricking snail, and I swear it feels like the worst kind of “walking behind the slowest person on a path too narrow to overtake them when you are in the hurry of your life” moment.
Except for this – you are one who has to choose to walk that slow.
Every damn day. You have to acknowledge how slow you’re going. Embrace it, defend it. Even when you bloody hate it yourself.
You see, I want to do it all. I don’t give a hoot that they say it’s impossible, that I don’t need to. I – me – the person who existed all on her own before the howling angels appeared on the scene – I need it. For myself.
More than the crying, cleaning, playing, sleeplessness – it’s the eternal balancing of these scales of family and work that is exhausting. With those you love on one hand, and what you love on the other. And “perfection” is actually unbalanced. It’s you making sure there’s far more for your babes on those scales, and then lifting that side up singlehandedly to give at least an appearance of “having it all”. Not for the people looking on, but for your own sanity and dignity.
Well, these are the deep and meaningless thoughts of where I find myself right now, anyway.
Seven weeks and still going… a little thing called life.