Archive | September 25, 2012


What were my expectations of motherhood? First of all, I assumed a lot of things.  I assumed I’d find true love and marry at 29 at the latest, right after landing a series gig, and then I’d have a kid or two before the age of 35 and since I’d be busy filming, of course, I’d have a nanny.  Or something like that.  Of course, I was 18 when I dreamed that one up.

By the time I was sliding into 40, that ridiculous dream was gone and I’d settle for a successful IVF, a couple bucks left and a success story to tell.  And then life had other plans for me and I’d have another kind of story to tell.   No less compelling, just more complicated than I ever imagined.  I intellectually knew it would be hard – you know, I knew about the sleepless nights,  the crying, the diaper changes and all that. I’d already gone through that with my mother, sort of.   I did not think it about past the baby stage, I’m sure.  I was never one to just sit down and play with young kids beyond 10 minutes or so.  I had more of a show and tell adventure in mind.  I would show my kid the art gallery or take them to the movies or take them on a trip.  I would teach them how to read and how to tie their shoelaces.  Riding my bike with them or watching school plays.   But I’d be doing other things.  Like career related things.  Relaxing things.  Drinking the coffee and reading the paper kind of things.

Ahahahaha!  Yeah, I know, very funny.  Apparently, I had no clue about the toddler years. And the shifting hormonal sands that are now screwing with my head.  Not to mention our financial situation has drastically changed in the past year. Hubby is being very helpful with the kid lately, taking him out to the park when he gets home.  I can see he’s tired, too, it’s obvious.  I’m hoping that I can get to a place where I can take the kid for a day so he can sleep in on the weekend.  It feels like a competition around here about how tired we are.  If I tell him I had a nap/snooze while the kid watched Backyardigans, he almost looks pissed off.  I feel like a teenager, in a way, emotions churning, no communicating, afraid of not being taken seriously afraid to open my mouth.

I almost feel as if I ‘m somehow reliving that sullen dread that I grew up in.  Scary.