Mamahood: the Sacred Contract of Perpetual Sometimes
Sometimes I stay up all night just so I can think, zone out, or whatever--sometimes the wee hours are my only chance to just be in silence with myself.
Sometimes I crash out early, getting sucked into the co-sleeping vortex that forms when I try to put Eleven to bed at a decent time.
Sometimes I wake up before sunrise because I'm tired of being not-asleep all night; consciously cognizant of this giant baby taking up most of our queen size and using me as a 24-hour buffet feast.
Where's my REM? I ain't seen it. Don't people die for lack of REM?
Sometimes I say, "This is the week I night-wean" because of the annoyance of being someone's unnecessary mid-night pacifier. And while I've withheld it a few nights, many nights I completely lack the energy it requires to deal with the screams so I just give in cuz fuck it.
Sometimes I have to catch 9 rounds of baby puke in my hands and all over my body in a 24-hour period. Because daycare germs. Disgusting.
Sometimes I wake up wishing I had the luxury to just check out for a day and do nothing in bed. Those days are gone, even if I'M feeling under the weather.
Sometime I become largely introspective and self-centered, because who has time to think about other people when I've got my own entire child-shaped solar system to navigate? I'm not always balanced. In fact, I think I spend more time working to come forward to that center than actually being there.
Sometimes I'm impatient and unsatisfied with myself and want to scream, "LEAVE ME THE ENTIRE FUCK ALONE!" to everyone.
But I don't really want that. I need everyone.
Sometimes I feel like all aspects of my life are in opposition (which they are, in my birth chart...).
Sometimes it feels like the days move too fast and I'm blind to my own progress and accomplishments.
Womp womp. So what are you gonna do about it?
Some say there aren't enough hours in the day. Skip that! When it gets to the 22nd hour, I'm READY for a reset.
So fine. I accept that sometimes I will fuck up at the mamahood game, but each day is a blank slate new opportunity.
So fine. I'll get her up a lil earlier today. I'll pick my battles. She'll be fine if she eats her waffles without a bib. I'll wipe up the syrup. I'll try to get her to sleep a lil earlier.
Still I keep rising with the sun, moving forward, and doing the best I can with what I've got.
Which is a lot; my life is incredibly abundant and I can't wallow in self-misery for long before remembering my wealth of bounty.
Still my heart sings in the beautiful moments where I'm enamored by Eleven's mind, spirit, and beauty.
She demonstrates PURE presence and holds up my clearest mirror. She holds no grudges. She throws up on the floor and moves on with her life; no wallowing.
Still, I'm enamored at her absorbent mind, her Age of Aquarius-esque methods of communication, and the fact that she is more in tune with the divine than my grown-ass, weathered, socialized, earth-jaded self.
Still, I'm in awe that my body actually expanded large enough to create this entire new being. Fuck that woman from man's rib bullshit. Men don't nurture with their actual bodies. I AM the Creator! I AM the nucleus of our family unit. I AM the magician, and I trust my powers. All hail Goddess.
Parenting is awesome and awful. The pits of emotional hell one second are juxtaposed with the gates of blissful heaven the next. It's everything and nothing. It's the epitome of dichotomy.
Sacred Contracts and lineage by design
From a higher perspective, we have to recognize that we do choose to be born through our parents. It doesn't make sense from an earthly standpoint (especially for me, because mine are so fucking puzzling), but it is what it is.
The genetic traits and family lineages from which we come provide the exact assets and liabilities that help us most in learning and contributing what we need to in this life.
All of this can also be clearly seen in one's astrological birth chart.
My mother's extreme levels of disconnect, ignorance and naïveté make me hyper aware of my mothering, and what I will default to if I don't look at and check myself.
My father's tendency to blame everyone else for his problems makes me extra responsible with a zero tolerance for victim mentality in my sphere. I rebuke that shit. I always make my way.
Sometimes, I feel like I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but I think of where I come from and am reassured that I'm doing infinitely better than my parents did. They were just young and calcified by culture and indoctrination, but I'm sure they feel they did the best they could with what they knew.
So, I stand on the shoulders of giants. Not just my own whacko parents', but my whole ancestral lineage, back to Shaka Zulu; whose warrior rebel spirit blood literally runs through my veins.
Because of them, my girl Eleven is going to continue to live a rich life full of wonderful experiences and as free from mental oppression as possible.
She is The One!
Perspective Shift: You've got the right to choose
Sometimes, we have to see the oppositions, squares, emotional vulnerabilities and other psychological archetypes as the direct keys to our liberation.
Sometimes, we have to remember that our mission here is to expand our own spiritual consciousness and further the divine expression on earth.
Sometimes, we have to trust that all materials or energy necessary to the completion of our task will be provided. We have everything we need; not everything we necessarily want, but our inner strengths hold the capacity to push ourselves beyond any apparent limitations.
ALWAYS, we have the element of choice. We chose to be here, have children, whatever it is--and we have the complete choice about whether to view life's provisions as blessings or burdens.
So sometimes...all I can do is give thanks for the sacred contracts and life experiences I came here to navigate.
I'll be able to sleep again...someday.
Until then, I'll just marvel at my beautiful wonder of creation.