This is my favorite part of the day. Everyone is tucked away warm and snuggly in their beds with the hum of deep breathing creating a symphony in my heart. This time of the evening gives me the same satisfaction as pulling a warm delicious cake out of the oven and sitting back and admiring your work. After a long day I love this quiet time to myself as the longing of needy babies, noisy toddlers and the smells of the Big Puerto Rican’s magic kitchen creations. It doesn’t happen every night but the past couple weeks have been restful since I decided to take a much needed break from work.
I had a 5 am epiphany the other day. I don’t mind growing older as much as I mind the fact that time seems to be escaping me and I am not in control of how I spend my time. What seems like a century ago I found my purpose in serving others. I have tutored, mentored, face painted, encouraged and in that “I have a big heart and want the best for you kid” loved other people’s children. I built playgrounds, cleaned other people’s houses, created parks, renovated housing, served meals, and helped people find their voice, power and strength. Somewhere along the way I lost a little bit of me. I weaved a little bit of my heart and soul into every project, every kid and soaked up a little bit of each of them too. It has been a wild ride but everything changed the day I created a person.
I have been bought in to the idea of being a mother since I was five. When I played house it was like the old lady who lived in a shoe. Hasbro, Playschool and whoever else made baby dolls in the 80’s had me at hello. I became an aunt at 8 years old. I was in heaven. I gladly babysat and sat at the kids table. These little people were like living dolls who I took responsibility for. I happily played big sister, mom, bully and caretaker. I didn’t become a real mom until shortly after my 30th birthday by that point I was bursting at the seams to have a baby. I had been with the Big Puerto Rican for years at that point and I knew in my bones that he was my forever love—so let’s get to it! I was pregnant by the summer after our first anniversary. I will admit it was a tiny bit quicker than we had anticipated.
When Eva was born it was as if my heart had tripled in size, grown legs and was now curled up in my arms. She was amazing.
I didn’t want to sleep. I just wanted to watch her. We were in awe. Everything she did was amazing. Look at her smile! Look at her blink! Look at her poopy! Because yes even poopy is amazing. I constantly woke up to make sure she was breathing in her bassinet until I couldn’t take it anymore and just put her in bed with us. I slept like a mama bear with her cub curled up close to her. Twelve weeks at home with my tiny little baby was just not enough. I left my baby at my mother’s house with a set of instructions. My mother was understanding but let’s be clear, the woman has great grandchildren and is from the old country. Iin other words this ain’t her first rodeo. It was traumatic. I cried on the way to work. Three years later the same scene played out as I left my second baby girl with my mother and cried myself to work.
While there was a part of me that enjoyed being showered and dressed in something other than sweats and actually having adult conversations instead of one sided arguments with the ladies from The View, I missed my girls. I wondered what I might be missing, what milestone might be happening as I was working to make the world better for them.
Then it hit me. These beautiful little girls have become my purpose. While I couldn’t imagine myself being a stay at home mom what I can imagine is being a mom that is much more available than the mom I was six months ago. I am thankful that I can continue to do the work that I love and be the kind of parent I want to be.
This is just the first part of my epiphany.
For the second part let me channel my inner Sophia Petrellio….picture it…. me many years ago…I used to go to the hair salon and nail salon weekly. There was never a stray eyebrow hair, no remnants of a stache. I was 40 pounds ( or more) smaller. I wore makeup every day. I was a fine, dime piece, a hottie, a hot tamale, una mamacita buena….get the point? I got tired of all the maintenance. I snagged a fine Papi and slowly…slowly…gained weight, broke up with my hair dresser and got too busy for makeup. I look at pictures and cringe. For a while everyone complimented my years old Facebook profile pic and took me how young I looked.
I still wear a pair of my maternity jeans (at least they have a real waist!).
I have hit rock bottom.
It was a slow spiral. But here I am….listen closely….hear the echo?
So number 2 on my list? I know it’s a timely cliché and it may not be exactly new but this is my blog, my crisis and so I get to make up the rules…..now back to my announcement….MY NUMBER TWO IS….Join a Bootcamp.
Yep. A hardcore BOOTCAMP.
This is going to be epic.
Especially because the most exercise that I have gotten in five years is childbirth. I don’t even have sneakers! I am scared.
No pain no gain right? I should probably stop writing and start looking for the heating pad.
Wish me luck lovelies....
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