Last night, on the eve of my 37th birthday, I was awoken by my husband coming in at 1 am (for the sake of his reputation, I will state that this is not a typical occurrence.) I had gone to bed early… being so old and all. In our world, with small children, it seems to me that both of us should always go to bed very, very early and be as well rested as we can possibly manage, for fear of the inevitable kid with a bad dream or fever at 3 am. So, perhaps it was the shock that he was coming to bed so late, or maybe it was the particular part of my sleep pattern that I was in… but whatever it was, it led to being awake all night long. It has been a very long time since I have experienced that (since my days of un-medicated post-partum depression, which evidenced itself with insane insomnia.) Finally at 3 am, I got up, made the kids’ lunches for tomorrow, took the shower that I would have to take in a few hours anyway, and got stuff packed for the day. Instead of getting up at 6 to do all that, I could do it at 3! (How perfect.) But life goes on. I got up, applied large amounts of make-up, put on a nice sweater and cute shoes, and off we went. This is one of the motherhood strategies of my friend, Betsy. You always know when she’s had a really shitty night with the kids because she looks amazing—eye liner, lipstick—the whole nine yards. If you haven’t tried it, you should. I did lament the fact that, because of the bags under my eyes, I looked 50 on my 37th birthday. Well, I guess a damn good 50, anyway.
My parents have told me that when I was little, I used to have trouble falling asleep on the eves of my birthdays. I would wander into their bedroom well past my bedtime, and complain that I just couldn’t fall asleep. My mom would talk to me about it, and apparently, my response would go something like, “I am not ready to turn 7. I like being 6 and I don’t want to turn 7 tomorrow.” Don’t most kids LIKE their birthdays and getting older and being able to do cooler, big kid stuff? Apparently, not me. It was just a source of anxiety… “I know what 6 is, I get it, I’m good at it… and now I have to be something else?!”
When I think back over my year of being 36, I realize that I have learned quite a bit, and I think I have grown as a human being and a mom. Maybe my 6 year-old brain was just scared of turning 37. What if 37 brings more hard lessons? (It will.) What if 37 brings more challenges to finding balance? (It will.) Ever since I became an adult, I haven’t really had issues with birthdays. Okay, well maybe there were one or two tough ones. My college roommate reminds me of the time she came home to our dorm room and I was sobbing on the top bunk about how I just wasn’t ready to be 22… that I felt like I just finally settled into what 21 was. (Yes, I am a bit of a nut, but it’s obviously been with me since childhood.) But mostly I just have a birthday, and I’m done with it—and especially during the last few years of having babies, I think each year that ticks by is a relief because it gets me farther from the days of crying infants, nighttime feedings, and post-partum depression. I know that makes it sound like I’ve been wishing my life away, but, I guess if you have had babies, you know what I mean. But this year has been different. I am in good place. Maybe it has taken me 6 years to finally settle into being a mom, and to really and truly embrace it. Because I tend to be kind of hard on myself, I was asking Derek the other day—why has it taken me this long to understand the balance? This complicated equation that includes what my kids need, what our whole family needs, what our house needs to run smoothly, and… oh ya… what I need. Derek, who is my biggest cheerleader and supporter, said, quite simply, “How can you figure that out? It’s constantly changing.” Yes, the moving target of motherhood.
