My Photo
Blog powered by Typepad

« A Few Things | Main | I'm Fine! »


Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.


Kyra - you need OUT TIME, GROWN-UP time, whatever you want to call it. Some time to be Kyra, not Fluffy's Mom, not Husband's Wife, just plain old fantastic Kyra. Find something, not writing, that you love to do. Do it. Exercise if it gets you out with other grown ups, take a class - even if it's just for the hell of'll get you with grown ups (even if it's just the instructor or professor). But do it. Do it for you so that you feel good when you're back being Husband's Wife and Fluffy's Mom.

suburban misfit

And even when you *do* get out and get to talk to adults, most of the time they won't understand why you're so desperate for conversation, or they won't understand the words you use to describe your child, or, worse, they *think* they understand the words but they don't. They don't. They'll say, "Oh, yes, Bobby was quite the active boy," describing a child who has never, ever, smacked a friend in the face with a book because, "I just couldn't stop myself. I knew it was wrong but I couldn't stop."

At those moments, the aloneness is opressive.


Again you put into words a lot how I feel....


I am feeling much the same way these days--I get dressed in the morning, in nice pants and a pretty sweater, so that I can drive the boys to school and call the pediatrician and the speech therapist and Henry's teacher and talk about what went well or not well today, and go to the grocery and not talk to anyone but the clerk, and then go home and change out of the nice clothes so that I can play in the yard with the boys all afternoon, alone, without anyone over the age of five to talk to.

And I find that my computer life--searching for answers to Henry's issues, 'talking' to my on-line friends--is sometimes more real than my REAL life, which makes me nervous and sad at the same time that it makes me greatful that I have these lifelines.

And then it is time to do it all again, and optimistically I put nice clothes on, in case TODAY is the day I get to see real people, real adult people, who will sympathise and understand.


Huhm, the hardest thing I learned (do I need to add this caveat, that yes I know my kids are different from your kid? That I'm not pretending to know exactly what you're experiencing?) as a new mom and I frequently forget and go thru months without this knowledge til things get really ugly and I learn it again is, I can't parent these kids without taking adequate care of myself. Adequate is up to me to determine. If it means an hour alone in the morning, then that's ok.
You can't give from an emtpy well Kyra and don't feel guilty if you need to enforce new boundaries that allow you to care for YOU.


I know, man. I am just not the same in the ways I wish I was the same. Like, I love the way motherhood changed me, now I just need some alone time to benefit from it.

Bread? Wow, that's harsh, dude. Shalom anyway.

Wade Rankin

A loaf of bread?!?

Kristina Chew

This post conveys the movement of that long odyssey that is motherhood--not a bad moment to invoke Penelope, the mother who waited the 20 years for her man (husband, SO--Odysseus) to get himself back home after various dalliances--

Motherhood is dancing at the center of the circle, arms extended to hold on to the little one who skirts the edge.

The comments to this entry are closed.