I'm sitting here at work, next to the big window-doors leading onto the back balcony and everything's covered in snow. Both my babies are sleeping (even though the bigger one can hardly be called a baby anymore.) Kung Fu Panda 2 is playing in the background and I don't know why I haven't turned it off already. I've been a little depressed. I don't know why. Probably it's a combination of things: lack of sleep, the setting in of Winter, postpartum hormones. Actually my period just came back today for the first time in over a year without any warning, so I suspect that has something to do with it. (So no, mom, I'm not pregnant again!)
I've danced with depression before and this hasn't been too bad, compared to other depressions. I'm sure none of my depressions have been too bad compared to some other people's. But I've been taking it slow, trying not to worry it too much. Trying to coax it softly to see what it's all about. I'm not usually a high-energy person anyway, and lately I'm even less so. That part I can confidently attribute to lack of sleep. All I want to do is curl up in blankets and watch all kinds of movies and eat things that aren't good for me. Like cookies? Hello. Being at work is hard, even though it seems like it shouldn't be. I do get to be in a comfortable house all day; I don't have to be on my feet or be in front of a desk doing not-fun computer things, like some of you. But it's not my home. It's not my food or my couch or my smells. It's not James' crib or his toys. It's not our neighborhood and our backyard. I so envy you stay-at-home-moms. Even though I know staying at home would come with it's own set of monotony and things to complain about, I can't help but want it.
Wishing for what you don't currently have is such a trap, isn't it? Right now I also wish it were Summer; that we could go outside and be warm, and take ourselves to the park and stretch out on blankets in the shade in balmy blissfulness. That sounds nice. But it's easy to forget that Summer actually gets really, really hot, and while stretching out in the shade is nice, it can be so tiring loading everything and everyone into the car, and waiting for the A/C to get going. And heavy, squirmy babies get even heavier and squirmier when you're already hot and sweaty and want to strip off all your clothes and jump into any and all bodies of water you pass, including the gutters full of sprinkler water right in front of your neighbors. (I haven't done this, and I probably won't. Don't worry.)
So I'm trying to practice being grateful for what I have, right here, right now. Even though it's hard. Even though the depressed, weepy, sullen side of me wants to take James and go home and sit in the warm bathtub and cry and feed myself a whole batch of my mom's amazing gingersnaps until I bloat and fall asleep. Fortunately I have a moderately healthy awareness of societal norms to prevent me from doing that, but still.
Instead, soon I'll hear my sweet boy crying for me when he wakes up from his nap in the pack-and-play in the basement, and I'll go save him from the torture of involuntarily trying to crawl in his sleep. And I'll kiss his sweet squishy face and hold his sweet squishy hands and brush his crazy hair out of his eyes. And with him in my arms it will be easier to remember why it's just too ridiculous to be unhappy.