identification

I didn't intend for this blog to be only about motherhood, but since it occupies such a large part of my life right now, I think it might be a lot of what I'll write about. I've had a lot on my mind in terms of being a mother, so I think I'll just write what comes- I apologize if this seems disjointed.

So this summer I've had a little taste of what staying at home with Ari full time would be like, and I have to admit, I think I might go a little batty if I didn't eventually go back to work. I feel a twinge of guilt saying that. And then I feel incredulous for feeling guilty. I mean, isn't that what the whole women's movement was all about- letting women pursue lives beyond just motherhood. So I'm torn in this perpetual see-saw between feeling like a lousy mother and feeling like an unliberated woman. I do enjoy spending time with Ari. Sometimes, I feel like I could sit on the floor with him for hours and roll the same ball back and forth eternally. And then I wish I could be anywhere else but in my apartment on the carpet rolling a ball back and forth with my preverbal son. And that's when the guilt sets in.

I've tried to avoid feeling isolated by spending time with other moms who have babies the same age as Ari. It's pleasant to get out of the house, but I have to admit it doesn't really fulfill my social needs completely. Most of the moms I've met are extremely nice, but I don't always find the conversation stimulating. It is helpful commiserating with other parents about sleep issues and teething or getting tips on feeding solids, or comparing poop war stories, but the conversation never seems to move past that. I crave company with other adults for the sake of just talking about non-baby related topics. I don't know if I would actually be friends with these moms if we didn't have the baby thing in common.

A while back, my sister-in-law, who is younger than me and about to be married, asked if I felt like a mother. I had a hard time answering her. I deal with this question internally on a constant basis. When I am pushing Ari in the stroller, sometimes I glance at my reflection in store windows. I ask myself, "Do I look like this baby's mother? Am I playing the part right?" Sometimes I feel more confident than other times. Often, when I am at a playgroup or around other moms, I feel self-conscious. Like I don't look "mommy" enough, whatever that means. But other times, I definitely know I feel like Ari's mother. Like when I'm holding him close feeding him, and I have this irresistable urge to kiss him all over. Or when he cries, and I can tell exactly what he wants. Or when we're out doing errands, and a stranger swoops in too close, and I feel this primitive urge to protect him at all cost. Or at night, when he's quiet in his crib, and I'm exhausted but can't sleep, because I worry if he's still breathing.

So this whole motherhood thing takes practice I guess. As I write this, Ari is happily gnawing on the coffee table leg, running his tongue along the dust. And who said puppies were more fun? Anyhow. Here's some pictures I took at the zoo yesterday. It was blisteringly hot, and Ari and the other mammals had about the same idea.