I feel like I haven’t written directly about motherhood for a while now. That’s probably because I’m in this phase that’s intense in a way that’s hard to even talk about.
Jonah’s almost 17 months old and is most definitely not a baby anymore. He walks on his own, quite well, and has slept through the night for almost seven months (praise be!). He know animals sounds and can point to his nose and his ears. He gives hugs and has a really well developed sense of humor (with a preference for physical comedy).
He also needs a lot from me! He wants to be lifted up high to see what I’m cooking and helped down from every last piece of furniture he climbs up. He falls, and then cries, so many times a day. He eats two bites of the food I make and then throws the rest on floor and then will only eat cheddar bunnies (please tell me this is just a phase?). He’s adorable and he’s consuming.
I’m hanging in there, but I also feel like I’m stretched to maximum capacity most of the time. Especially in the cold weather, there are days I don’t leave the house because I’m taking care of Jonah or, while he’s in daycare, catching up on work. I have a strong urge to hunker down and hibernate and instead I spend most of my days doing the opposite.
Mothering is intensely intimate and also really isolating. It’s the biggest teacher I’ve had yet.
I hope this doesn’t come off as complaining, because I feel so much appreciation for what I have. I guess I just wish our culture were more family-friendly. I wish we worked less and played more. I wish we could be more connected to nature, especially us city folks.
And I have a much greater appreciation for what every mother has had to do to bring a child up in the world. You all have my intense admiration. I wish you all were leading our world.