i took 8 month old andes to the beach at 8am today, after i woke up with a massive stress headache, the kind that remind me that although i'm an independent thinker, i still suffer mainstream pain. Nothing but total relaxation would to cure me, and that became obvious to me quickly. i'd fallen asleep in the middle of an anxiety attack the night before, because (not very intelligently i admit) of a brain rush of negative ideas as i was winding down last night.
i couldn't stop thinking abut how fat i look and how i had to buy xl panties these week. how its hard to cut my own toenails still because of the post-post-post pregnancy pooch. you see i still look and feel 7 months pregnant. i'm not exaggerating. the proof is in the maternity swimsuit i had to wear to the beach.
up until i gave birth i was obsessed with not gaining an ounce over 30 lbs and i succeeded, thanks to a lot of exercise and self care. i was sure i would continue on a healthy path, but i didn't going to the other extreme and gaining 40 lbs.
other than my self hatred, i was also doubtful. i count not stop thing what i am doing here in florida, alone, while husband has pretty much permanently moved to you new jersey to take a job in brooklyn, a place that oddly enough has brought the best in him along with job satisfaction and self respect in a short amount of time.
and so i find myself, at 8am in palm beach, with my towel near the shore and my sling across the waist. i wear the swim ways canopy baby floating device as a hat and prepare to go into the cold refreshing water with the baby. mi chiquitito. that cool burst on my body relaxes the muscles one by one until i dive in slowly and it the cold water slaps my forehead.
mother and baby float pleasantly. i love it when andes isn't in control. he finally finds something he can have some reverence to when we are in the ocean. on land he has an army of people watching over him. it takes a village they say, and they were right.
i'm lucky in that way. i have a collection of souls that have been charmed (and rightfully so) by my children, whether it be by blood or by fate.
i try to picture myself living in brooklyn, new jersey, manhattan, long island and i cant; its impossible for me to live without my constant headache, my main stressors, my cross to bear: my 3 girls. they, along with the friends i get to see rarely, are my safety net. i can count on them to keep my head straight and help raise my kids. not to mention pick up eggs and babysit enough times a week for me to take out a fifth mortgage. plus they shower them with more love than any overworked, under dressed, sleep deprived army of moms ever could or would for that matter.
but that doesn't change my obsession. i think about them all the time. their likes, dislikes, abilities, shortcomings, college opportunities, tv programing and many many many others things too fruity to mention.
but i am deep, deeply committed no matter what to raise them. preferably with a village and on organic produce. but all i can do is the best i can, to the best of my abilities and with the education i have recieveved at the time i make life altering decisions. because they deserve better than what i had, and a pillar of motherhood. and if i die trying then i died fighting a good battle, after an upstream swim, or don draper in the trenches.